I Write So I Don't' Drink

I write so I don’t drink
These words that flow from my fingers to these keys keep me with ease from life, and all its ups and downs and inside outs
And so I write and I do drink – sometimes in the dark of night
It hurts my lyrical rhyme so I lie (a little) but not a lot
He taught me that, and he showed me how to mark a bottle from your sips last spot.
And these words clearly show me, in all my glory, naked on paper from my fingers to your eyes
And I drink, not to make you look better, sound better, feel better, or to think that I can accomplish anything
I drink to ease the tears that might fall right now as I contemplate what happened to me today and yesterday and all the days before
I’ll shut the door and turn the light down, and pour myself another, eh hum, excuse me
While I wipe this tear just one last time today, I can no longer take the pain.
I drink to sooth the restless heartbeat I have when you are only a foot away, inches from touching me, holding me close, closer to eternity
And to calm my inner self, knowing that one day, I won’t be able to keep my hands to myself, drawn to you like an animal, my finger nails will await the day.
I drink because like you, I have secrets too, from my fingers to the virtual world we live in and those who don’t know me, will never know.
And so as I finish writing this, my fingers are cold, the words aren’t as swift as I’d like them to be, my tears have fallen, I am in no more pain, and I think of you and me, and our last drink.