Each day around noon
he goes to the place
he is welcome.
He places his money on the counter
and orders a large rum.
He stares at his glass for a moment
and then takes a sip,
silently toasting the memories
of lost friendship.
The years have caught up on him
and he must spend
what is left on his own.
That’s why he comes here so as
not to feel alone.
He passes the time of day with
the other lost souls
then stares back into his glass
like it was the opening of a large hole,
where all his memories are stored
and where he returns
to any time he is bored.
Those times have become
far too frequent
now that he finds
it harder to hide his torment.

Very evocative writing 😊👏
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