Both of us done with all the drama, jealousy, heartache.  At separate ends of the bar drinking away memories and frustration totally numb to it all.  Not even sure why I looked away from my glass of whiskey, maybe the same reason you turned my way.  The first smile I had in months just seeing you leaning on the bar with a look I could understand without a word.  I nod and raise my glass as you can’t even muster a smile but still lift your bottle.  I’m too tired to move and you just don’t give a shit anymore.  A perfect couple separated by a few empty seats and scattered people trapped in delusions of what tonight would be.  I motion for the bartender to give me a pen.  I write on a napkin and don’t even bother folding it private.  I tell her to get you another drink as she brings it over.

She laughs as she reads it and looks at me like I was a crazy person but I just scowl at her and slap 100 bucks on the bar to shut up her opinions of me.  She sets the beer in front of you with my note of endearment.  You find enough energy to read it as I watch you lean over the bar and pour the beer into the sink.   You put money down and grab your purse as the waitress starts to laugh at me.  Oh well, not that it matters much, never ends well.

I watch you walk right by me, slap your hand down beside me with the note “You want to get out of this shit hole and go fuck!” scribbled in my handwriting as you kept on moving to the door.  I turned to watch you leave, cute little ass only to see you turn back “You coming?”