You can find me sober, I couldn't get drunk enough off
of you.
Like, the squeeze of lime, you licked the salt off my
rim, and left a bitter taste on my lips.
I never did like the taste of whiskey.
Now, it's a reminder, maybe I never liked you.
I was fixated on a list of ingredients for a drink,
that didn't exist.
Maybe, it was just me trying to pour tequila
over your gin.
And, if I mixed long enough I would feel
what you feel, but I don't.
Maybe, we can still talk, maybe we'll remain
But, I can't keep drowning myself in feelings,
I don't feel.
Even, if, I once did.
I am no longer intoxicated, I am thinking
a lot clearer now.
You had your chance, the bar is now closed.

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