This drink in my hand
Do I turn it over;
And walk away?
Do I let the rim touch my lips
Quenching the pain?
Oh, the sweet nectar!
Lavishing across my worries.
A scar open
and bleeding over the bar.
Heart pulls and tugs
the burden of memories
across its veins.
He left for another creature
with lips.
More quenching than mine.
On his mere face
love and hate have a war.
With my hands I stroke
the bruises left behind.
I am all alone
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