*
Got up late
Not feeling great
For her not feeling ready
Head’s a mess
Heart under stress
Legs a bit unsteady
Yes, it’s true
A drink or two
Perhaps a few too many
Spent too long
On wine and song
Spent my every penny
‘Tis my fate
That she’ll berate
Me for my old obsession
It’s not my fault
But she’ll assault
Me for my indiscretion
And then I’ll say
“Not me! No way!
I didn’t touch a drop!”
She’ll yell and scream
To let off steam
Eventually she’ll stop.
*
90 words. That’s a lot for me. I probably should go and lie down now.
Richmond Road 
remembering the good old days pops?
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I can’t really remember if they were good old days or just yesterday. Or maybe I really am talking about someone else. I used to be someone else once, though never really someone at all – at the same time ….
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lol sure the fog will clear eventually 🙂
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Is this you confession?? 🤣—like someone caught in a cycle they know too well but can’t quite escape. The rhythm makes it almost playful, but underneath, there’s something heavy—regret, inevitability, maybe even exhaustion.
I can feel the tension between guilt and defiance, the way denial becomes reflexive, even when the truth is obvious. The back-and-forth between indulgence and consequence, between the drink and the aftermath, feels painfully real.
It makes me think about how easy it is to justify our own vices, even when we know they come with a cost. And how, sometimes, the hardest part isn’t the mistake itself—but facing the person who’s tired of watching us make it. Whelp!
Thankful for only 90 words we may have heard more of this confession Mr Richmond, I love war stories, I have a few of my own I may unpack on my next write 😊
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