Parting Company

Its chipped oak she faces
Shoulders slumped
And a lifeless grasp
On a shot glass
Salted hurt
Leaped from behind
Her tightly pursed lids
A barricade
Diluting the Honey
Someone else paid for
She can't seem to find herself
At the bottom of that glass
Or in the reflections
Sitting behind the polyurethane
Her arms are sticking to
Dried solid
She hadn't meant to spill her beer
The accusations of a stolen wallet
Dissipated
As she was told to part company
It was a mistake to allow
An outlet
Now she'll play the waiting game
And he won't call
Not
another
Word.