Whisky

I traded my tomorrows to remain in yesterday. Whisky tears are falling, splashing around me. I can fill up my own glass with the liquified memories I’ve collected.

The single malt burns my lips as I stare at the golden water. Maybe it’s time to stop, but the distorted world I see through the glass is too beautiful to ignore.

The empty bottles on my balcony mark the number of days I’ve been thinking about you. Twenty something, the cuts in my feet are hard to count.

I sleep on a bed made out of shards. It’s quite comfortable now that I’m used to it. The dark red shimmers in the moonlight, I’m slowly killing myself for you.

Another empty glass falls to the floor. If I’m lucky you can stay up there a while longer.

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