Whiskey Tears


A whiskey teardrop

Falls gently down her cheek

As she sits at a dusty table

Staring as ageing flowers wither in a vase


Lonely, empty, confused

She wonders, ponders

What could be, what could change

If he would just speak


But he cannot speak

For he is not there

And she, she is alone

With her tears, and her whiskey

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