i took for granted, all the times that I thought would last somehow

[empallin]

the bottle is not empty

cold nights are always so lonely and long
sleep will not be beckoned
yet ideas refuse to be wooed into the light
all the things you desire avoid you like a disease
the cruelest trick of a hidden moon
maybe someday you will find it
but first you must suffer through these nights
the only words you can hear
are echos of long forgotten pains
so you reach for your bottle
half full of something to warm you
but only half way empty
of things you wanted to forget
these long cold night always see to wake
a lonely memory's ghost
one that would never woo
and fear it being beckoned
you can only suffer through this pain
and echos of forgotten voices
with the help of a bottle of hope
no one to pass iot around to
yet you still take another down.

[poems that appear here but are not credited - such as this one - should be asssumed to be mine]