Down and dirty is what she preferred, In that swig of gin that is shaken not stirred.
Similar to her mind always rattled and breaking, Finding solace in that glass, Escaping thoughts of mistakes made in the past.
Always asking for three more olives please, One for hope, one for courage and one to breathe.
Enjoying each sip like it was her last meal, Electrifying her mind and body to feel,
Alive like she could dance for days, Caught up in her warm fuzzy haze.
There at the bottom her olives lay, Beautiful like a piece of art held by clay.
Slowly eating them one by one, Making each wish until they’re gone. Calling it a night with her martini complete, Feeling full with hope for tomorrow’s feat.