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
Myself.

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.

Cheers—
This sober shot’s
On me.

 
K.N.O.W.
Sunday, April 26, 2015. 4.51 a.m.