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Rated: · Poetry · Dark · #1782711
Drinking alone on a cold night...
Sleep doesn't seem to be an option

Mixing drinks and coming up with a weird concotion

I know I have issues

Sounding like St. Louis, singing the blues

I really don't miss you

I'm just looking for love too

Maybe I'll get my own jet so I can go anywhere

I'm thinking the ocean, I know I'll fit in there

One day I'll be ok

Until then, I have nothing to say

© Copyright 2011 Russell Brown (russellbrown at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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