The Empty Bottle

Coins jingle deep in your pocket

            as you stagger the street alone;

One quick glance inside your locket

            reminds you why you’re so far from home.

You close your eyes to recall her face

            that slips all too rapidly away;

Desperate you cry for some foregone grace

            but, unanswered, you turn on your way.

Refuge you seek in the pub on the corner

            perhaps to drink away all the fears;

Your mind fancies ale or maybe a porter

            but your soul only craves the tears.

The bartender quietly gives his best

            as he slides before you a cold one,

But forty-four more wouldn’t quench in your chest

            what a bullet could do with just one.

Either way, you chug it down,

            “Bottom’s up,” cheers the bartender,

“If only I were,” you mutter with frown,

            seeking no saviour but an ender.

You’re convinced that faith couldn’t bring her back

            for that is what the world has made known;

The more you drink, the more you see black

            and see fade the life of your own.

You find some fulfillment closer to death

            but you still fear what follows after;

Pissed at the world you keep your breath

            forewarned by the devil’s laughter.

There in the bottom of the bottled glass

            you see yourself staring, and sad;

You wonder how long ‘til the pain will pass

            but you figure you’ll always stay mad.

Back in the alley you search for some light

            but nothing seems to satisfy;

Somehow you wish you could join the night

            though even the moon passes you by.

The rest of the world revolves in motion

            while you sit still with your head in your hands;

You long for your recently lost devotion

            but, before you, only loneliness stands.

The darkness envelops your entire being

            the way you wish she could again,

But darkness just covers you, keeps you from seeing

            and holds you where she should have been.

You wonder if blackness will be your only friend

            or if life will refill your frame,

Though perhaps for now, or even ‘til the end,

            you’re willing to stand in the rain.