If you stare hard enough
at the dregs that roll
around the bottom of your bottle
those bastard last drops
of golden fire, swirling
in the curve of the base
of your clear glass bottle
perhaps she will return
she’s like those dregs
and no matter how hard you want
or beg
or plead
or cry
she refuses you
like the dregs.

But what if your stare
your hard swaying drunken stare
was enough to break the bottle
to cause sharpness…
you’re too soft
too in love
with the bottle
with the fire
with her.

So you’ll wait
you’ll find another bottle
a full bottle
a bottle of golden fire
and maybe
she’ll return
when she sees your smile
and maybe
when the bottle is half empty
like last time
she won’t go
she won’t cry
she won’t plead
she won’t beg, or want you
to waste
down to the dregs
and maybe
if you stare hard enough
you’ll forget

15 thoughts on “Dregs

  1. I thought of my mother when I read this. So full of pain that she was always looking for the next bottle or pill to help. Anything that might help.

    A bad relationship.


    Thanks for sharing.

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