March 8th.

It’s closing time - 

The bar keeper and the soul kept by the bar, 

The quiet sounds of night ending, the first noises of a new day. 

Two souls, alone it feels, calling it quits. 

 

I used to think that was us - two souls, alone, fighting it out or calling it quits. 

Alone (or so) in the midnight bar of memories.

 

But I took a drink, on elixirs of estranged memories

In the bar of what I thought was just you and me 

But when it opened, there were three;

You, and me, and another - 

Another in your company

But I only realized it in reflection;

How can that be?

 

Even when I settled the tab,

Taking last sips on teasing tonics

I remembered, it's not the bar keeper (you), and the soul it kept (me).

 

Because tonics become potent punches - 

Of one hundred proof reality 

And just like the beginning, I know it now, 

This was never just you and me.