pour me a drink and pour your eyes over me.

Sunday, March 16

You've always been the dangerous one. First I was your secret, your play thing, your high school taste. I was a risk you took, a risk to your cool factor, the image you'd molded of yourself as a bad boy, the streetwise one. If I was such a secret, doesn't that make me the dangerous one? I know you more than you'd like me to. But you never stayed away.

Your hair was always long, but even longer now. You moved closer to me and I breathed you in: the smoke, the liquor, the past. Fogged up windows, hushed breath, so much history. And years later I still feel your hands, the first hands. 

I was hazy quickly. You called it forward action, I called it liquid luck. I watched you from my booth, I pressed myself agains the wall, I let my eyes bubble up the length of my straw until I saw you looking back. 

That band is loud.
That band is shit.
That band gets better the more you drink.

You slid into my booth again and I slid my hand across your back, down your leg. Your hand found my thigh. Don't let them see. Maybe this isn't such a game after all. 

I'm told your eyes were on me when you sang. I know I was staring right at you. You were eating me alive. Everything burned, like guitar strings against calloused fingers. 

As we left, there you stood smoking. Or talking. It didn't matter. I grabbed your face. I kissed you like I knew I would. I couldn't even tell you why. 

I can only write about you with an elevated heart rate. With bass lines piercing the silence. When I dance in a dark room all alone. Maybe it's because I only feel you when my heart is racing and my nerve endings feel alive and tingling. You are the dangerous boy, after all. You make me feel dangerous. 

via *


  1. Nice.... you described the whole scenario.... for.a.moment there i felt in high school too, remembering those days.... great prose darling

  2. Beautiful. You sure know how to bring your readers right there with you. Keep writing.

    1. You always leave the sweetest comments. Thank you so much x

  3. what is it about the bad boy that is so fucking intriguing? i like the darkness i find within myself... this little hidden part of me that only comes out to play when he is around.

  4. Goodness gracious. haha there is something almost uncomfortable about reading these things of yours - as if I've stumbled upon a private journal but can't stop reading. In a good way. I mean that in a really good way.

  5. Dancing alone in a dark room, isn't that the prettiest picture imaginable?

    / Avy

  6. I never had a bad boy experience, really. I was always the bad girl. Always the one parents disapproved of. In fact that's what I am still.

    Beautiful writing my love xx


  7. these stories are so far from my own experiences and yet i feel like i was there.

  8. wow I wrote something extremely similar, yours is amazing!
    You have some serious talent, babygirl



Thank you for your words; they light a fire in my heart. You are lovely.