whiskey glass
the ice is still melting inside of that whiskey glass.
with so much in my system, there’s no way that i could pass.
my phone’s been ringing more than the bells you hear at mass.
i get another beer, although i said this’d be my last.
if i hear one more excuse coming out of her dirty mouth,
i’ll pack my bags tonight, catch a flight, and travel south.
it’s simple - black on white; i can’t live my life without
her being here with me; i say that without a doubt.
©LukaKorba
With love,
Luka.