She Was

Strange, the memories that stay with us.

She Was 2

She was a little drunk
When she
Invited me

I know she thought I was
But I believe

She figured maybe I
Would do
To see her through

Another faceless night
And so
We left to go

I drove her home, and then
I tasted
Of her wine

It wasn’t the best
Vintage, but
It went down fine

Yet she looked thin and
Sickly in the
Morning light

When quietly I left
The sun
Was shining bright

Perhaps it’s strange
The memories
That with us stay

I hope wherever
She might be
That she’s

Author: Beleaguered Servant

Owen "Beleaguered" Servant (a/k/a Sibelius Russell) writes poetry mostly, with an occasional pause to have a seizure.

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