The band is far
too loud
for this pint sized bar
on a Thursday night
There’s no crowd to
play through
just the band
and me
empty tables
and a head ache
My friends they
get happy on the beer
but the beer just
makes me sadder
which is no good thing
I sit with my pen
I steal blank white
order tickets from the bar
with which to write
nothing good upon
I think of having the singers babies
I think of having the drummers babies
I think of having my boyfriends babies
When the song dies down
I hear my lovers voice
booming through the
patio doors as he
laughs and carries on
with my girlfriends
I love the music
the singer is good
but the beer it
makes me sadder
MAMA BIRD 
Gosh Terah,( I like typing your name because the computer always underlines it with a red line) , I comment with trepidation and a lot of backspacing as your honesty and vulnerability catches me more off my guard than usual. So in a vain attempt to keep my foot out of my mouth I think I will just go and have a beer or two, have a real good cry and hurl insults at the drummer, the singer, AND your boyfriend.
Oh David.
Why does my name look so strange when you write it?
Powerful Terah! I have no doubt some good poetry will follow!
Thank you so much Leamuse. Blessings to you today.
Merci beaucoup mon amie!