I’m not sure I like Italian.
But I let you take me there.
I’m sure you thought it was fancy,
A way to impress me, to get the girl.
You got me then.
In the cheesy dimmed lights,
The wine glass decorations.
Over a dinner I could barely stomach, and
Now I’m not sure it was the food.
Maybe, the butterflies.
A park in the evening.
Should I go?
I asked everyone who would listen.
Parks and strangers never sound inviting.
But those butterflies clouded my mind.
The lake sparkled in the sunset as
You held my hand for the first time.
At least, when the Mosquitos weren’t
Ruining the moment.
The water was still as were we
Until you made the move, confidently.
With your lips still on my mind,
We saw each other again.
Dinner. Movies. How cliché,
Yet I wanted to be there.
The night is hazy, and the movie was alright.
However, in your car, wrapped up in you with my favorite song playing
Is my favorite part.
My knees were weak.
They’ll tell me it wasn’t long enough,
Ask why I didn’t wait.
But that night, in my room,
I gave myself to you without knowing.
There was no romance, no delicate pace.
The sheets weren’t soft and the TV was loud.
But it felt right.
And had you never called again,
I would have been okay.
But you did.
You, a short series.