A slow thrumming of thumb on strings;
A guitar plays somewhere in the darkness.
I take another swill of my drink,
As the bar girl looks on with disfavour.
I’m lowering the tone in my melancholy.
Uncaring, I mop the sweat from my tired brow.
Being here reminds me of her;
The first time we met;
The first time I loved,
And the endless days of heartbreak since.
Funny how many memories you find
In the bottom of a bottle;
In a bar you wish you could forget,
Whilst the sound of the guitar strums on.