Baby Went Home

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Borderline
Alcoholic sitting at the bar
Sipping on a Gin and Tonic,
Trying to give the impression
Of a seasoned drinker.

The liquor
Visited her tongue
And slipped down her throat
And immediately wished
She ordered whiskey.

She wanted to savour
Each delectable note,
Just before it burned
Its way down,
Hopefully,
Burning away her sins,
Her fears,
Her past.

She spun the tumbler around,
Thumb pushing,
Fingers pulling,
A whirlpool forming.

“Come home, baby.”
The words echoed
In the cavern of her mind.
She wanted to go home but ……

Would he forgive her?
Could he forgive her?
Did he still love her?
Could he love her?

“Come home, baby.”
The words came out of nowhere,
Strong arms enveloped her
And pulled her into a warm embrace.

She was afraid
To turn around,
To face him,
To look him in the eye.

“I’m sorry, I..”
“Shh! It wasn’t your fault,
Come home, baby.”

“Are you mad?”
“I was mad,
I won’t lie.”

“Can you forgive me?”
“I already did.
I love you.”

“I love you,”
She turned around
Finding the familiar expression
Or love written across his face.

Such an intimate moment
In such a public place.

Fingers entwined,
They left the bar
Leaving a half full glass of
Gin and Tonic.

Baby went home.