The Bar's Polished Disguise

There's a splash of compassion in my eyes
as I drown in the beauty of sorrow,
such a swirled mass of joy in emotions
that flip laughter and tears like coloured winks;
spinning the drink on a plate in the mind.

Another liquidised drop languishes
as the jukebox calls for my feet to explain
the rhythm of her magical romantic notions.

I'm a world away ~ lost in the play of her smiles,
the tiles are still red and my footsteps are fresh
so I tap the slate of the bar's polished disguise.

Her wedding dress still roams the floor of our room,
in a hotel of baubles and dust free expense,
she's asleep now, in hopefully dreams of our love,
but this fascination with vodka runs right through skin.

I can only assume that my doom is not far
as I stumble past clothes full of dead-eyed sense,
a life's made for living but here I am dying
and the songs they accompany me as visions fly high,
up in the clouds I'm as low as can be for this freedom
in alcohol's soft indifference, whisks me to chains I made.

Another liquidised drop dances these aches
as the jukebox calls for my hands to wring pain;
the rhythm of her magical romantic notions.

I'm a world away ~ lost in the play of seduction,
the tiles are still red and my footsteps are light,
so I tap the slate of introspection's wide sighs.