amber lies

I'm a drunken fool sobering up on love 

I chase the three sheets in the wind 

wishing you were behind them 

one peak

one touch 

whisky dreams fade to burnt amber 

glass towers loom 

another empty cup 

viewd through whiskey tears 

taunting a vacant heart 

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allets's picture

At The Risk

of sounding redundant; I got lost inside this poem and I can't get out. Glass towers of bottles behind the bar, whisky tears - life turns amber like a finely aged distillate; images that resonate with my younger days when I experimented with every "cup" out there. And then there is the metaphor of another love lamented and gone - you just rock. That's all folks!- Stella -