It’s 9 AM and I’ve been drinking
since before the sun came up.
The sound of the rain outside hitting that patched up window is nothing but an echo
of the liquor splashing its liquid into a never ending glass
until yet another empty bottle clicks and clanks in the trash.
It’s 12 PM and I’ve been drinking
since before the rain stopped.
The light from the warm sun peaks through the cracks in that window that broke
the last time I drank and reminds me of the day
leading up to that big fight when everything changed.
It’s 3 PM and I’ve been drinking
since that night two weeks ago when you screamed about me buying that new sofa
and walked out on the only thing that was keeping me
happy, alive, and sane.
It’s 6 PM and I’ve been drinking
since after the door slammed and you walked out
on me, on the little country house in the woods, and the little family we’d been
planning late at night after the sun set over the tree tops.
It’s 9 PM and I’ve been drinking
since before the sun traded places with the moon and illuminated the outline of the scar
on my left arm from the night we drank too much and drove too fast
on those road we didn’t know were dead ends.
It’s midnight and I’ve been drinking
since I knew where those roads took us.
All the twist and turns I thought were just part of the fun
ended up destroying us like they did that car when we hit the tree because we didn’t see the ice
below the new blanket of snow that was only interrupted
by the wavy tire tracks from what we thought was just innocent fun.
It’s 3 AM and I’ve been drinking
since I learned that being innocent and having that kind of fun is nothing more than a joke.
It’s 4 AM and I’ve been drinking
since I realized that the rain leaking in through that smashed window won’t ever wash away the things that we’ve done
or the regrets I can never take back.
It’s 5 o’clock somewhere and I’ve been drinking
but I’ve never felt more sober.