He was electric bad news
    With a soulful garage sound that spelled trouble
  I wanted to be the woman I reformed from years ago, that took wedding rings as a challenge
                  Not a mistake

If we’d been alone perhaps opportunity would have made us both weeds
    In a crowd his fingers grazed, lingered, and caressed my arm
Hand felt strong, heavy on my shoulder
                 Inspiring a mental masterpiece of where else            they could be
       Forbidden attraction pulsed through the air between us

We were electric for one night in Minnesota where nothing happened
    But the what ifs and could haves left sweet sin stained dreams in his absence
   Morning broke with electric bad news on a plane, me questioning who I’ve really become and wondering if at any point he felt the same.