Within the glass are familiar colors.
Swirling memories of youth, loss. And dream-like states.
Whether or not I would like another
Seems inconsequential to the linear timetable
that began and continued up ’til this moment from my first drop.
There’s the polished wood beneath my arms
and cheap smell of sweat mixed
with allure of perfume.
Their smiling faces fit within this glass
unchanged over many years.
Never judging, always welcoming, but, in the end – gone, empty…