I'm at that diner again,
sitting by myself
in a corner booth,
analyzing, observing,
thinking about this broken girl
I knew for a little while.

Her dad is dying
In the hospital,
Cirrhosis,
another tormented soul.
I'm glad I haven’t fallen
that deep,
but I see the appeal.

I told her
I can’t be friends
with her anymore.
I isolate when
things get difficult,
and I’m starting to notice
the walls,
having too many
late night drives.

Life has been hard
on her, on all of us.
I hope she finds peace
outside the bottle.