Staring at torn up sugar sachets
in the bottom of the coffee cup,
self indulgent sightseeing of options,
swallowing all the help I can find,
washing them down with juniper.
Conversations torn up quickly
and rearranged to suit your view,
painting a terrible caricature of me
or possibly the truth I’m not sure.
I don’t think I’ll never be sure again.
An old song sneaks into my head,
I’m sent off topic and out of time,
mind now lost between then and now
We’ve stopped talking again,
where to begin?