The jukebox plays those old tracks, Steel guitar, harsh memories comin’ back. I swirl the ice looking through a half-empty glass, The older I get, the more I drink to forget the past.

The waitress knows I tip in cash, A tired smile, then she makes her dash. She left a note, still stained with tears, I read it slow, through these weary years.

I chased dreams I couldn’t hold, Now it’s just me and the barroom cold. Gone are the nights of wild regret, Replaced by rooted truths, I can’t let go.

Another year has slipped into the night, Now it’s just me and my lonely silhouette. Some truths you carry, some you let— And the older I get, the more I drink to forget.

💭 If these words spoke to you… pass ’em on.

🤝 Like what you just read? Share it with a friend.
This porch light’s on for everyone.