Sway

You were so drunk tonight that you danced with me. You danced with me. With Me. ME. You were the one who pulled me in, who swayed my way and enticed me to come a little further. Not me. Never me. After November and my disastrous confession at Bunker, I never expected anything out of you. I never thought--never, not even in my wildest dreams--that YOU would approach ME. I didn't believe it at first. I couldn't believe it at first. And you did it not once, but THREE times. THREE. Did you have ANY idea how I felt during those brief moments? I didn't know whether to laugh or cry.

Why did you do that? Why did you let me touch you? Let me feel your body through the fabric of your dress? Let me put my hand on the small of your back and draw you close, as close as I dare? What are you trying to do to me? My eyes continuously traced the outline of your curvy silhouette, and you could have brought me to my knees when I pressed against your chest. Dear God, we were rubbing up on each other face-to-face! I couldn't even look at you without freezing up.

And then I watched you dance your way somewhere else and make out with a boy who had a fedora on and too much hair.

You sure know how to break a girl's heart and fuck with her mind. And it wasn't even the weed this time.