Bar back beauty, back your way over here
And let me sing you a love song
like Taylor Swift would,
In a totally masculine way.

Drink me in
and pour me another,
sing me a song
and make it last long.
I’m in a routine
that I fucking hate.
Help me break it. Help me make it
new and lasting.

Help me find something true. cause
this shit won’t last much longer.
and I could write for longer
but I can’t find my voice.
If I could only bring it back by choice.
I could, I can. I can’t, I won’t:
This is coming off as a bad joke.
They’re just words that I think of
as the clock ticks on.
I need to fix or make something

pour me another
stay quite close.
I thought I was finished but
maybe I won’t.
What do I wan’t next?

There has to

a thing


can say.

Maybe this is an example a range gone wrong.
But It’d be a lie if I planned it all along.

She talks to angels and
August and everything after that.
I’ll be back


some time.

I don’t know.






Welcome to the empty recesses of my mind! I'm a recent college graduate realizing a Creative Writing degree was a bad idea. Give me a pity like. Or you could check out the about sections (on the front page and about this author page) on my blog to learn a little more about me. Whatever.

2 Comment on “#NaPoWriMo Day 11 “Friday night drunk poem (Part 1)”

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