Written on a napkin from the bar

Is a number 

7...

Oh...

No...

It’s not a phone number 

7 is actually the number of drinks I’ve had

Sitting alone 

Wishing that I had a friend 

 

See, I tally them up

Making sure I don’t deplete my funds..

Which isn’t all that hard 

considering I didn’t come here for fun

 

So, 3 shots and a pitcher

 

I watch it go from 4 friends to 3

From 3 to 2

2 to 1

And then 1 friend to none

 

Now that all’s said and done

I make small talk with the servers in hopes that I get comped another

 

Which is all fine and dandy..

 

But, what’s missing is the personal connection needed in order to keep me...fine and dandy

So please, may I have another?

 

As Im sitting here watching my number grow

As does the pain I feel inside from feeling soo alone...

Damn..

What a cliche thing to say for a poem...

 

Okay

 

Written on a napkin from the bar..

And by napkin, I REALLY mean my phone...

Is...

this poem

 

A poem about how I should probably go home..

 

 

 

Check, please!