Vodka

She sits 

Red painted lips

In the inky black

Of her room

A vodka sip 

Burning a long line into the depths of an ache 

Deeply dormant

Face to face 

With past ghosts 

Fragrant with dusty books and the hard covered dreams

Long ago shelved 

The red lip stained glass 

Drained 

Yet wet with the cold memory 

She adoringly gazes into its emptiness 

And settles deep into thoughts of long sunsets

Long gone

Which way do you look 

When you look back?

Is it possible to dream in reverse 

And land on a mountaintop

With your pen 

And your paper 

Already 

Writing 

The thoughts you've never had?