Irish Whiskey

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Mourning a lost love,
At a table for two.
With a bottle of whiskey,
Keeping him blue.

No consoling words,
Does he want to hear.
He just thinks of her face,
And that brings the tears.

Maybe by drinking,
He can forget.
Not knowing that drinking,
Keeps her in his head.

In the morning he’ll rise,
And start once again.
Drinking Irish Whiskey.
That eases his pain.


– Juan Olivarez

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