Work to be Done.

I take another shot,
and try to behave.

I long to speak my mind,
but there is face to save.

It should be safe,
I am drinking alone,
After hearing your 'Goodnight',
spoken over the phone.

I try to drown out the voice,
telling me I made the wrong choice.

All the pain and fear,
seem so far away,
As long as you're near.

The distance between us,
All the 'relationship' fuss.
Corrosive sand,
Grinding us to dust.

This has gone to far,
to be anything less,
than eternal bliss,
in an infernal mess.

I feel your stress soar,
as you gather the cloths you once wore.

I have music and emotion,
to carry me through the night,
There is work to be done tomorrow,
If it is all to turn out right.