I gave this whole “living life sober” thing a shot and quickly discovered that being sober is for the birds. I’m at my best when the combination of big pharma pills and red wine has me licking the backs of my teeth from a mouth that is dry.
You are a siren more seductive than any Odysseus had ever encountered; the type of lady that drives men to madness and women to the edges of temptation.
I am unapologetically opportunistic. I am a buzz saw you should avoid. Bite your lip and try to hold back your naughty thoughts, because dilated pupils and flushed cheeks have already told me all I need to know.
Enough about you already, let’s talk about me. Let’s talk about how tonight I’m going to give you all the attention one can give. That tonight, the only thing I want to do is feel you shake.
I can’t write like this anymore. These are not the words I want to share as I put pen to paper.
So here I go, sharing my words meant for one, instead, with the masses.
You have silenced my pen.
You have me over-thinking every word, while listening to Ben Harper and wearing the sweater that you just borrowed.
You have me wanting to steal Charles Bukowski and Hank Moody quotes, wishing that I had written them first.
You have me cut out all the others, with out being asked.
You have me watching the fireplace channel, enjoying a sober conversation and nervous to make a move. I feel like I’m in the eighth grade.
You have me hoping that you’ll spend the night, and trust me, that’s a big fucking deal.
I’m not going to rush you. In fact, I’m going to give you all the time you need. I want you to figure out what you want out of life, and if that includes me. I want you to know that as of late, all I’ve been thinking about is you, and that for once, I’m going to do my best to not fuck this all up.