Bitter Midnight (ver. 2)

So I had a minor critique about the way it was written, so, I did some small edits. Mainly switching from a third person perspective to a first person perspective.

Bitter Midnight

Sitting upon the stool; the tip of the toes touching the floor.
The tips of my fingertips pressed against the rim of the glass.
I clasp the rim as it were a hand and I twirled her lightly.
The liquids swirled gently as it were a dress. I stop the ice rest.
Holding the glass quietly, I caught her reflection; the moon.

I’ve been caught. She stares at me with jealousy, I grinned.
Knowing that I was the one that scorned her, and I un-scorned.
I lift the glass proudly and the rim touched my lips, and we kissed.
A torrent flowed down my throat; burning it. I set her aside.
In the end the affair was simply shallow, in the end it was nothing at all.

Slouching at counter barely able to collect my thoughts.
I look for another to fill her place; the background seems lively tonight.
In the end the glasses was never enough. No matter how many, or how much.
Those love songs sung on stage only seem to break my heart; ill at eased.
I finally understand the blues, and it oddly sets me as ease; as I kiss another.

Leaving the bar, alone; my only escort was the night.
Staggering as I walk, looking for a shoulder to lean on.
In drunkenness the streetlights flickered like falling stars.
The moon watches from afar; though it wasn’t a jealous gaze she placed on me.
Fumbling to find my keys, I let open the door, as I invited the night in.

Flinging myself onto the mattress I braced it with my arms; clenching tightly.
Shuffling, kicking, and rolling underneath the cold sheets; I try to warm the night.
I quietly whisper words of intimacy and secrets to the pillows; all the unsaid things.
Each moment I tried to get closer and closer, deeper and deeper into the night.
The night quickly left me exhausted; I fall asleep unknowingly.

As I woke night has left, and day has come.