He looked at the time, and it’s 11 in the evening. With the local band playing in the background – singing
Some love song meant for the hopeless, for those who feel worthless, And for those who keep finding reasons to stay and make sense
He’s sitting across the wooden bar, head rocking back and forth Keeping it together amidst the effects of the spirits he ordered
Pen in the left, drink on the right, and a few empty bottles on the side He gave way to whatever his wretched hand could write.
Perhaps alcohol isn’t really compatible with making a composition As it’s difficult to write sweet poetry while relishing this bitter, devilish concoction.
But still, as hesitant as he might be, he slowly succumbed to the temptation Knowing that alcohol isn’t the only way to experience such intoxication
After all, love is the poison he chose to die for. And here he is wishing just one more taste…
Just one more shot, one more drink. Just one more glass before his pen runs out of ink.
Too numb to feel. Too drunk to think. Too sick to understand why it’s her that he would always think.
A couple cases of beer to drown his sorrow. He asks if anyone has a lighter he could borrow
So he could burn up this paper heart And forget the things that always fall apart
He bought another bottle; fighting another battle. Not giving a damn even if they’re drinks that he couldn’t handle.
One swig after another – never wanting to be bothered Maintaining his company down to just one number.
He doesn’t want to reminisce his own “stupidity” And the silly things that he had done to make others happy
He doesn’t want to remember them, not even the jovial kind. For once he desired to lose them in the back of his mind
Flashing lights. Starry nights. Blurry sights. Drinks and ice. That’s all his eyes could ever see.
Broken hearts. Lonely sighs. Tiring eyes. Empty cries. That’s all his heart could only feel.
He walked myself home, hanging his head in shame Pointlessly finding someone to pin the blame
For this distraught state, an unappreciated fate, Knowing that he will never be the same
And eventually, he found that person staring right at him. He groggily approached and weakly grabbed the collar of their shirt
Spouting nonsense and whatever senseless assertions his lips could utter Giving that person a taste of whatever distress his could muster
But there wasn’t any response. There was none of it Other than a wistful look and a deafening silence.
It’s as if a sense of mocking is present with its empathic gaze Until the realization hits him. It all hits him.
In front of him is nothing more than a mere reflection. A spitting image of him created by his own mirror.
As he sobers up, his tears run down his eyes Knowing he has no one else to blame but himself.
He knelt on the floor, with his palms kissing the ground Beating his fists on the wooden flooring, making an acoustic with every pound.
His scream. His cry. His wish for a final goodbye. His desire in making it right. All of that just because of a few beers within that night.
He weakly laid on the floor and let out a whimper Tired and drunk from spending the night as a drinker.
Moments passed and he travelled towards the docks Waiting patiently for the ferryman to meet him for the trip.
With a coin as his payment, and with Charon as his guide, He made haste for the land of where she now resides.
And there he was, sitting beside her; sparking up a talk just to feel warmer. Carrying the work he had created – devoted only for her.
He looked at her and smiled. He bears no tears nor subtle cries. He places his piece and the pen right beside her and bids his final goodbye.
He walked towards the gates, and looked back just one more Just to view her peaceful soul waving at him for the final time.
In his peaceful smile, it was then he knew that he isn’t shackled anymore. He leaves the desolate land, as it still wasn’t his time.
A new day arrives and he awakens from his slumber – opening his eyes He then welcomes the sunshine – feeling free in his heart and mind.