Echoes of memories ricochet in These old haunts of mine Where the poison hasn't touched And the only name I know here Is Tom Collins.
Did we consume too much? Did we stay too long? Did the haze of the high **** us dry?
It must have stolen All the marrow in my bones Because now, I am empty, Listening to these ghosts for acoustics While the seat beside me stays wanting.
I had a drink alone in a place we used to frequent for open mics. Bittersweet.