Indulge me in my little request.
A glass of gin -dry,
a period of silence, accented by my self misery.
A sip, a toast. To my once beating heart which bled for you. To your soft lips that I kissed.
A gulp. fill it back up.
Another sip. Another toast.To the empty seat across from me. To the extra space in my bed.
Maybe I should play a sad song on my radio.
Or maybe have another sip, another toast.
No comments:
Post a Comment