Sober Shots.

When you confessed of a love for the game,
It all came crashing back to me,
With an unexpected clarity;
Finally letting me see,
Through the sober shots in my glass,
That nothing at all had changed,
Including how well I fooled

And now a few days later,
With my glass all
But empty,
My head full, and clear,
I know that I no longer want
This emptiness that comes
Of chasing ghosts.

This sober shot’s
On me.

Sunday, April 26, 2015. 4.51 a.m.

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