Alcohol and Memories

In the dark, silent hours of the night,

As I cling to a bottle of solace,

My heart speaks with a resounding voice,

Echoing louder than the world's noise.

I could shatter a picture frame with force,

Reduce it to fragments of shattered glass,

But the agony that consumes my soul,

Beats with a heavy, incessant pulse.

I could burn every memory to ash,

Watch them vanish into wispy smoke,

But the pain in my chest persists,

Refusing to leave or be revoked.

I could erase her height from the wall,

Efface every trace of her existence,

But the void that she left behind,

Is an indelible wound that resists.

I could beat a punching bag until it breaks,

Until bruises cover every inch of skin,

But the ache within my shattered heart,

Is a battle that I simply can't win.

I could spend an entire day with a friend,

Wrenching sobs from my chest until my voice is gone,

But the magnitude of my loss remains,

A weight that I can't bear to move on.

The pain is too profound, too immense,

To be expressed in mere words or rhyme,

And I'm left with a broken, aching heart,

In anguish and turmoil, frozen in time.

So in the stillness of the night,

With alcohol as my only guide,

I listen to my heart as it weeps and cries,

Yearning for a way to heal and survive.

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