Corks

We collect corks like every pop

relieves the pressure and creates the flow we need,

like the sweet taste from inside the bottle does enough to mask the bitterness.

But we don’t need to finish the bottle,

nor another and another and another,

to reach this oblivion.

We have made it there ourselves,

pretending the bottles weren’t smashed

and never noticing the cracked glasses enough to do something to fix them.

Once the cork is out,

it’s out.

The bottles will empty;

so too will the glasses.

We drink up – the night is over.

Time to forget,

although the head ache in the middle of our chests won’t really let us,

and the sound of ringing glasses will stay out of tune, humming painfully in our ears.

Until it’s time to sleep on this forever.

In fact,

it already is.

Empty bottles, thrown-away corks;

a single drop left, and then gone.

Here’s to us.

Good night.