Whiskey Bottle
There is a whiskey bottle on my floor
& your memory is about to walk through my door
Aided by this Rye
You will come in and say “hi”
The door is locked
And you wont knock
Your smile will melt through “why?”
As I question, “If we will ever try”
Your brown eyes
Will see through my lies
And when you whisper my name
The past and now will become the same
The love in your voice
Will relive each choice
We will sit like nothing went wrong
Listening to the radio in hopes of that song
Your smile will never fade
And all along I stayed
This memory I hope to store
Because soon you will return through that door
& I will be left with this whiskey bottle on my floor
Copyright © Chad Weeks | Year Posted 2013
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