At the bottom of the glass

Consumed too quickly,

Bypassing the taste,

I couldn’t tell if what I was drinking

Was an ambrosia,

Or something that needed a chase. 

I remember guzzling,

I remember gulping

And I remember

At some point, even choking. 

I remember it never-ending,

because I never saw it as half-empty.

I don’t remember ever savoring,

as my thirst was stronger, never wavering.

I drank when I was full.

I drank until I was sick. 

I still haven’t stopped.

I think I drink too fast.

It’s too fast.

I’m drin—

Slow down. 

It’s gone.

I’m staring at the bottom of my glass.