One sip has silenced babbling crowds tonight
and all I hear is whispers call me 'Miss'
in rowdy bars that reek of ageing piss
among the crashing glass and hazy light,
where turpitude and sin can seem so right
this world becomes an underground abyss
in whisky shots I often reminisce,
the drunken hags still looking for a fight.
Inside my heart lies broken, cursed by love,
no gentle words repair the chaffing sore
but whisky's liquor numbs the endless pain.
No answers found when its her I think of
and close my eyes from seeing anymore,
for love that once was bliss is now my bane.
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Comments
1 - 6 of 6
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OMG! And I thought all British women were refined ladies and only sipped tea and gossiped about the Royal family and praised what they remembered of princess Di. At least it's a well done sonnet!
Love,
Amera
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LMAO - In the world of Sir Cricket of Jeff maybe!
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Whew!
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Yeah I know I used to frequent some rough and seedy bars in my salad days
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And I used to frequent some rough and seedy salad bars back in the day.
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oh me oh my and I thought you were such a refined lady!!!
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