Tipsy Carousel

She ordered whiskey with a splash of regret. Her lipstick's loud, but her voice

a silhouette. Spinning the nails and that's a roulette. She's here for

a spark, but finds a blank cassette. The rooms are black.

Our thoughts collide. She laughs too hard. Then wants to hide.

Round and round, she's on a tipsy carousel. Riding high,

then falling where she cannot tell. Every day's a story she won't

recall. Dreams go up and she forgets it all. O- o-

o-. She says she's fine, but the words don't align.