I don’t see the glass as
half empty or half
full,
sipping what it contains,
still drunk on the memory
of it,
even as I lose sight of the details,
and know the glass won’t
contain enough to get me drunk
this idea we can get
through life with a shot of something
when we clearly can’t,
and know no matter how
much we consume,
how long we sit at the bar,
we won’t find any measure
of redemption.
We do not drink from it to forget
We can never forget
The look in her eyes
Her glistening lips
Her posture on the bar stool
Beside us,
We drink to endure,
To take the edge off
The sting of what once
Was extremely painful,
The false moves we made
The misinterpretations of fact
We drink to keep from being
Too sober, too somber,
Too painfully aware
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