I drink red wine now by myself but obviously not in the pathetic, lonely sort of way or in the I-have-a-problem way, I promise! I put it in a glass and everything! Just in the unwinding way Sometimes... late at night... It's nice Sometimes... it helps me write... God-awful poemsΒ Β you know, in the why-can't-I-forget-you way but I only drink in the evening hours and the days aren't so bad and every day I fall more in love with myself honestly, I do. I do! It's just a shame that doesn't make me fall out of love with you
And I feel like my poems are never long enough even when my words are dancing in my head and then I get sleepy before they unlock but that could be the fermented grapes or the clock as I continually realize the knock on the door won't be you anymore
so there's just me ... and the wine and the whining and resigningΒ Β and the pining for what was never mine