Still Here

As another drink slides lazily down
the back of my parched throat,
her face returns to the front, now
burned into the edges of my mind,
like staring into a hundred-thousand suns,
the walls of reality are jagged, and perception
is wasted on the meek,
time runs together like mollasses
while sitting at the bar, and the music flows
on the tip of our tongue,
the bartender pours another glass,
and the eyes follow my every move
unaware that I do the same,
in the silence of the night, my
afterglow, a dying ember
held in my scarred hands, does not burn
instead shines like amber in the moonlight
and reminds me
she reminds me
please remind me
of why I'm still here.