It starts as a few sips,
that’s all that I intend;
but so many bottles
I have brought to their end.

It doesn’t really matter
whether it’s sweet or Brut.
My alcohol palate
is not that astute.

My favorite part
is the effervescent bubbles.
I can feel them melting
away all my troubles.

And drinking doesn’t feel
like such an awful sin,
when it seems like a
party is about to begin.

I’m spry, I feel light,
I’m the belle of the ball.
I decide all my friends
to randomly call.


Somewhere in the evening,
it takes a vicious turn.
Regrets in my aching head
begin to surface and burn.

Mostly chances not taken,
and things left undone,
leave me feeling so low,
I wonder ‘where’s the fun?’

Then after that fugue,
I realize I’m quite alone.
My only real contact
has been through the phone.

‘Cause who wants to deal
with someone who’s so sad?
All I can do is reminisce
on the good times once had.

And before me lays desert,
an unwelcoming land;
and my luscious champagne
now tastes rather bland.

– Phoenix Aradia


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