Familiar fingerprints grace its' sparkly glass mould
Through the ripples of alcohol; our story unfolds

All my tribulations; I'm too weak to face  by myself
Not without that bottle of scotch, on the same top shelf

And lately reflection seems to be a friend of mine
In these hollow corridors I've so often pined
This magical cocktail pairs well with regret
And bittersweetly I swallow; hoping to forget

Some day I will digest these deliciously painful memories
I'll rise to the occasion and shed these liquid accessories

All my tribulations; I hope to one day face by myself
And the dust will collect on that bottle; of a  (lonely) bottom shelf

~J. Hitchcock