Some memories become diluted over the slow dance of time.
Like the melting ice in the amber gold poison that your desperate hand preciously holds.
You close your heavy eyes as the bittersweet taste drowns out the room.
And it becomes a race between the ghost of a smile that’s struggling to hold on and the tamed tears that are trying to break free.
But all you have left running through your mind are broken strings of notes from a song that you’ve overplayed for too long.
Downing the last of your drink, you look at your glass, empty except for the sliver of ice. And you realize that you’ve run out of time.
You let your stumbling feet drag you out. You’ll have to find new memories now.