In the dim-lit bar, where the jukebox hums,
I nurse my wounds with whiskey, my soul succumbs.
Each sip a memory, each burn a release,
As the amber fire dances, granting me peace.

The bartender's my confessor, pouring salvation,
Healing in every drop, a sweet libation.
The glass half empty, the heart half healed,
Whiskey and heartache, their secrets revealed.

""Whiskey and heartache,"" I sing to the moon,
A duet of fire and ache, a familiar tune.
The burn on my lips, the warmth in my chest,
In this bittersweet dance, I find my rest.

I trace your name on the rim of the glass,
A lover's ghost, a love that couldn't last.
The whiskey swirls, memories rise,
Of whispered promises, stolen kisses, and lies.

The jukebox spins old ballads, tales of woe,
As I drown in the chorus, lost in the flow.
Whiskey and heartache, my faithful companions,
They mend and unravel, like worn-out anthems.

*""Tennessee Whiskey,""* George Jones croons,
A hymn to lost love, to healing under the moon.
I raise my glass to the stars, to what's gone,
In this amber sanctuary, I find my dawn.


The burn becomes a balm, the ache a song,
Whiskey and heartache, where I belong.
I'll drink to the past, to the scars that remain,
In this fragile dance, I find my refrain.

So let the whiskey flow, let the heartache mend,
In this smoky haven, my brokenness will blend.