Love is like a blooming rose.
Or at least that’s what they tell me.
I once held that rose.
I swore I would nurture it forever.

Sadly, it was blown away.
Its petals now watered by another.
To the bar I go, in an attempt to drown my sorrow in liquor.
Shot after shot, reality fades away.
A drunken fantasy takes its place.

I thought I’d found a rose like the one I once cherished.
When I sobered, I realized it was but a drunken bloom.