The Drink

The Drink

As I wipe the beads of sweat, from my brow,
my trembling hands, reach for the bottle
staring at me, upon the table.
Over time, my mind has learned,
to play the game so well.
Beckoning me on, as it promises,
one taste upon my lips,
will end all pain,
from loneliness, heartache,
along with my feelings of despair.
With each sip, of the drink,
my hands, become steady,
and yet, as time passes on
my mind, has won again,
this game we play,
for I have lost,
and all my reasoning, is gone.


Written by:
Carla Faye Cox
Copyright ©2007 Carla Faye