I’ve had a few conversations with bottles lately,
Not much for talking, but then again I’ve heard that talk is cheap,
an over confident sense of love, perhaps hope where mistrust should be
and, oh honey, dont forget,
remember how he always reminded you that he’s left girls for less…
disregard all the eggshells, heart on the sleeve of your Sunday best
pardon the shoddy lyricism, if you can even call it that for what it’s worth
I can hold my own while I hold the glass and pick up pieces from the dirt