It’s a bad idea, you know
to play a game of Russian roulette
with the ego.
drink something – or more than something
to drown the insecurity.
wanted this to be a story I can tell
with pride, like
how you walked in, how you saw me
and Nashville turned
inside of itself,
swallowed every musician
and spit back out an orchestra.
like you saw me
and the sky split in half and you and I were the only ones
the sun decided to spotlight,
like you saw me and a rolodex of every
mouth before was instantly deleted,
like you saw me and I bought you a drink
and you leaned into our hug like
our bodies are ingredients and we’re supposed
aren’t meant to be anywhere
but skin to skin,
aren’t meant to be spent
across the room.
I wanted to stop you in your tracks
instead a polite chat, a thank you, a nice to meet you.
a let’s do this again
a sure, I’ll hit you up
that we both knew
for one night, I didn’t want to be cute
or pleasant, or nice enough.
I wanted the story
of how I was a girl
you couldn’t keep your hands off.