I have grown weary of this concept, perhaps I will resurrect it later. Until later, here is what else there is. I just don’t think the story is clear. The story is there, though.
So, you can guess which way I went.
Stumbled in to the arms of the wrong one,
Followed him around corners
Into his bedroom.
Spent the next day washing wine from my system.
Retraced my footsteps,
Tripped over 2 a.m.
Bruises he left.
Past midnight glass of wine,
Before four cocktails in,
To my decision.
I thought of the man I’d turned from,
The right one?
The other one.
Who teased me for the way
I protect my chest with my hands
When I speak
I think you’re confusing
My heart and my breasts.
I called him
Offered up a French 75 and apologized
When he asked about that night.
I turned left.