Peace in a Bottle

Broken hearts and shattered plates on the floor,
The pathetic sight of smeared mascara.
Her eyes locked on me, a man I abhor,
Unleashed by the unknowing Pandora.

Jim Beam, Smirnoff, does it really matter?
Beseeching God to save me from myself,
The clinking glasses provide my answer,
My angels reside up on the top shelf.

The bittersweet kiss of cold bottle lips,
Grim trauma turned mute by the lowball glass.
Please, I beg you, give me a few more sips,
And maybe this peace I have found can last.

Forever I’m trapped in this endless hell,
Blacking out, I can’t see how far I’ve fell.

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