I wish I met him at a more
"Traditional" place other than
The place we met...a room
Full of bodies either
Searching for lust,
Or searching for a distraction
In toxic water, or a toxic soul
Some even move to the rhythm
Of the beat for joy & laughter...
Others move to the rhythm of the
Beat to forget yesterday's sounds
As for me, I'm not sure why I was there,
But I certainly wasn't there to forget
The face I came across so unexpectedly
Serendipity as one might call it if you may
Beauty is what he called me
Drunk is what I called him
I closed myself off..so whys there a
Window peaking his light in?
...Drunk is what I called him
Yet his name is what I whispered
To myself on my drive home..