Bid the glass empty.
While you drop your drink.
Within turns in love, hate and apathy
over
a wrong text at midnight
or
between rude modicum of work
and
a half betrayed thought,
breathe.
Beyond
blindness to her faults
and
deaf chords of trial
learn to weave tales of future
smoothing the red cover.
This struggle isn't real.
Hold up the mask and miss the blink.
Feel the blues.
Look up still.
Pause the watch
as you slowly let your conflicts shrink.