"Cowards die many times before their deaths,
The valiant never taste of death but once."
-William Shakespeare, Julius Caesar
Cusp of a tall draught,
Dutch courage so cold to the touch,
Moisture beading on the surface,
Drips run down watching bubbles coming up,
In straight lines,
A pool brimming,
Collected a thousand-million eyes on top,
To watch you,
Still sitting on a waxed-polish surface.
Remembering, was brave once,
But doing nothing about it now.
Damn it's dark in here,
Lumps in throat that want to be the necessary words,
Thirsty eyes stay down,
Forcing themselves not to voice,
Not to sip,
And not to say,
No, it's over.
Over and over,
Fingers toying with a coaster,
Finger needing a little longer,
Fingers trying to refute the decision,
To go ahead and grab that fuckin' glass.