3 O’CLOCK

It’s 3 o’clock and the whiskey is kicking. And fuck if I’m not here sitting, reminiscing.
Not for sordid hopes of rekindling. Not praying salvation for memories dwindling.
Rather, quietly sitting, listening to the distant sounds of settling.

The writing was on the wall for damn near long as I can recall.
But there is something so elegant in the fall.

It’s sudden motion baby, and the beauty is all in direction. 
Away from hollowed out affection and this goddamned infection.

So hey ungrateful, seek your escape. I’ll seek forgiveness from father time.
For every missed chance and wasted glance that could have all been mine.

But don’t let my sentiments be mistaken, this is not regret.
Just a poignant reflection on opportunities still unmet.

Consider this my thank you, and my adieu.
For recreating in me something long-overdue.
Consider yourself the foot in my back,
Pushing me forward, toward all that you lack.

Submitted by Untitled.

Tags: submission 33 notes | | Jan 10, 2011
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