Tequila
One shot, two, then three
Drowning stress;
Troubles blur
And fade until my head hurts
And my stomach aches.
Just one more
Hoping for comfort
Finding none;
All I have
Are empty bottles and dreams
I never reached for.
Caren E. Salas
Note: This was inspired by a prompt from Robert Lee Brewer's website "Poetic Asides". The prompt was to write a poem having to do with something being empty. Don't worry friends, it's not autobiographical. Well, the bottles are ours, but it took a long time and lots of salt and ah...I better quit while I'm ahead. Suffice it to say, I haven't given up and don't ever plan to. If any of you do relate, talk to me. Really. No, really.
Great descriptive writing as always, Caren and thanks for the visit and your kind encouragement.
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