Bottles

I am shaken from sleep

By the sounds of 

Breaking.

I stumble in the 

Dark

To find him,

Shattered as his

Bottles.

He is gone,

Into a state of

Freedom and

Bliss.

He is so free,

In fact, 

That he won't even

Hear me when I ask,

"Is it

'Whenever you want,'

Yet?"

Author's Note

I wrote this at 4:30 in the morning, so it's probably got a lot of errors. I was really resistant to putting this up on here, but I figured what the hell.

Reviews

[Moonflower]

This reminds me of my dad, on a drinking binge, though I'm not sure what this is inspired by, thats just what came to mind. Thank you for sharing, i love the style in which you write your poetry.