this past weekend I danced

with a few different
men

woke up
in someone else's
bed

(twice)

was kissed on the cheek
after one
drove
me
home

(I even sang in his car)

I didn't want his number
I didn't even throw
a bone

I lingered
on a dance floor
in a blue dress

every man
I touched
looked at me
as if
I have never made
a mess

I don't remember it all
I just liked the way it tasted

especially the taste
of not saying your name
for a second
a minute
an hour
a day

a 48-hour period of time
thinking of everything
I could never say
to anyone
but myself

(it's a secret)

I forgot how it felt
to be asked
how I was

how was I
not tucked in
safe and sound

I forgot how
I was okay
with you being
a person I made up
in a poem

what
were
you
doing
the
26
years
before
me

before
you were
ever
thought about

before
you were
wanted
in a sentence

before
I ever
wanted to say
your name
out loud