July 2018.

I threw back that tequila shot
right before regret filled me.
I looked down
at the blue screen in my hand.
Bad ideas.
“What are you up to?”
Delete. Delete. Delete.

An hour passed,
and I was at your door,
watching as you tidied up for me.
You opened up
and I poured in.
More whiskey, more laughter.
It was blurry.

You filled me up,
and I spit you out.
As I lay next to you
and you sang that country song
That one about being beautiful crazy?
Everything felt right,
so I fell into your chest.

And then the sun came
and I waited
for regret to inevitably consume me.
But it never came.
Instead your rolled over and smiled,
“How’s it going” before shutting your eyes again.
It wasn’t right, but it was.

Beautiful crazy