You look for happiness
at the bottom of a bottle,
searching the lucid liquid
hoping
to find the missing pieces of your shattered soul.
You pray the potent sting
will overpower the pain of loneliness.
When you swim for long enough,
it does.
Vodka, whisky, and gin hold your hands
and walk with you through the night.
They wrap you in a tight embrace
and hold the fragments of your humanity
together.
They are your friends.
They are your only friends.
But when you awaken to a pounding head,
a weeping heart, and mid-morning sun
softly streaming through the edges of your curtains,
you feel alone. You feel empty.
You dive headfirst to the bottom of a bottle
wanting to swim again.
Even though you are drowning,
this is the only time you feel alive.