Bottom Of The Bottle Poem by Joan Hart

Bottom of the bottle
I’m visiting tonight.
I’m swiftly on my way -
Your face is in my sight.

What’s in store for me
At my destination’s end?
Oh intoxicating refuge,
Sometimes you’re my only friend.

Will I laugh and twirl and spin,
In a carefree bliss I find?
Forget every trouble, every thought,
In a numbness of the mind?

Will I weep without a cause,
Blubbering and whiny?
Stumble and try to hide
From the sorrow that seeks to find me?

I could stop you know, should I choose,
Or at least I’d like to think.
But the bottle whispers softly,
“Why not just one more drink? ”

When the sun goes down, the whispers grow
And my thirst, it grows, too.
What harm is it, I tell myself,
There’s far worse I could do.

I try to guard my habit,
But it seems to secret’s out.
I deny again and again,
But I’m met with knowing doubt.

It’s a cycle well worn in,
One I just can’t seem to break.
Others refuse to make peace
With the person that it makes.

Bottom of the bottle,
I’m visiting tonight.
I’m swiftly on my way -
Your face is in my sight.