Shot Glass Heart

I've got a medicine cabinet doubling as my bedside table to where I'm able to store my Bacardi white rum in case I wake up teary-eyed and screaming in the middle of the night from a dream I wasn't preferring My heart's a shot glass that no one wants to take all of so they sip me and I burn them mercilessly leaving little time in this 'pour me another' romance for intimacy So if a shot glass cracks as it struggles to keep up with the names to the all the lips it touches does anybody care? Or is it just a morning after mindless answering machine message stare into one more window that shows fractured life through chipped glass And if a shot glass falls off a table shattering on the floor in an empty bar three hours past cut-off does it make a sound? Well I set my alarm for four a.m. after a heartbreak and I put a pitcher to my chest to check and see and yes a shot glass does indeed scream when it's smashed But it also has the capacity to laugh and it particularly purrs when it's led by two loving female fingers to a VIP room And later my body interrogates it about the experience because the heart always feels things a few seconds faster than everything else So a shot glass glowing alone on a neon bar sign lit table is just reporting the days news to the extremities And a pitcher is just another way to say 'I'm still alive' And a medicine cabinet is just a place to keep secrets that keep you that way. And your body is only the bridge between real, emotional, and spiritual Making alcohol the lubrication to which we use to slip in between two opposite lives And planning to leave one behind would be like begging for our shot glasses to cut our lips with mis-matched romances and flowers playing themselves off as people pretending to be 'forget-me-please's It's too bad the glass can be both half of empty and full simultaneously.