In my style of self-loathing/cathartic/absinthe induced reflections....

===================================
He marks time by the glass
as he sits all alone,
The bottles stare him down
and dare him to atone.
He reflects on loves lost
and loves never to be
Each sip passing the time
masking the misery.
Every night is the same:
Each thought, each sip, each fear:
He cries into his wine,
and laughs into his beer.

He can't forget the day
she came, she saw, she won.
She stole more than his heart-
she knew not what was done.
They say he should move on
put the past behind him.
That can't happen, not yet.
Not 'til his flame grows dim.
And why it still burns on
for one he never knew
Must be answered by those
who speak about love true.

For he has found more love
from the dregs of a glass
Than he could ever find
in a dame or a lass.
And so he sits alone,
more bottles by his side.
In Vino Veritas---
they are helping him hide.

-GHR

Penned by my hand on the 13th of Phaestian, in the year 390 AF.