i wonder if things would have turned out different if i hadn’t been such a sad sack of shit my entire life

the whiskey the women the singing the words

dating out of my league only acceptable when you factor in the talented tongue

also the charming way i spoke

how did i fool so many into such a myriad of awkward positions

physically emotionally and metaphorically

keeping hidden the truth behind hazel eyes and roguish grins

i may be a damned fool but what were their excuses

things could have turned out worse i suppose

the wine could have turned to vinegar the lies could have come unspun the bodies lowered into the ground could have been mine

whose to say whose to know

left with a ceiling to be stared at and questions left unanswered by the silent spectre of love gone bad

if loneliness is the price to be paid for a lifetime of sex and smiles and odes to temporary forevers

well it could have ended much worse indeed