Whiskey Tears

 

A whiskey teardrop

Falls gently down her cheek

As she sits at a dusty table

Staring as ageing flowers wither in a vase

 

Lonely, empty, confused

She wonders, ponders

What could be, what could change

If he would just speak

 

But he cannot speak

For he is not there

And she, she is alone

With her tears, and her whiskey

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