All out of vodka. A crying shame.
I mixed some orange juice with champagne.
Cut my finger. It’s pretty deep.
Snoopy Band-Aid. I deserve plain.
Our song came on but it’s not the same.
What once was sacred is profane.
I licked the wound. It tasted cheap.
I spilled the notes to our refrain.
I wore new shoes but you never came.
Clean break versus a three-month sprain.
Fresh regret on an aging heap.
Lost for good in your heart’s terrain.
It burns my throat but I drink the blame.
You missed last call. I won't complain.
No way to climb a slope so steep.
I’ll show myself out down the drain.
About the Creator
Jason Huls
Horror writer. Filmmaker. Podcaster. M.F.A. in Digital Cinema from DePaul University. Member of the Horror Writers Association. I talk about writing and filmmaking.
Author site: JasonHulsWrites.com
Film Production: TenWingMedia.com
Enjoyed the story? Support the Creator.
Subscribe for free to receive all their stories in your feed. You could also become a paid subscriber, letting them know you appreciate their work.
Comments
There are no comments for this story
Be the first to respond and start the conversation.