My Life In Word

Mercy in a Bottle

He raised the glass
like a prayer
no church could hear.
The whiskey burned,
but for a moment
it quieted
the names of old regrets.
At the bottom of the bottle,
he searched for forgiveness,
mistaking numbness
for peace.
Morning came,
and mercy was gone—
leaving only
an empty bottle
and a thirst
it could never satisfy.
Tomorrow,
he will lift the same glass,
chase the same ghost,
and call it hope once more—
only to find
the same empty bottle,
the same unanswered ache,
the same lonely ending.

Simona A. Brinson

Photo by Europeana on Unsplash

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