The first encounter is never something expected,
He looks at you and looks away,
And you just let it go because how could you know?
When he talks to you, his words sound like nails on a chalkboard,
You cross your fingers and pray you're never alone in the same room.
Then you're talking over an hour in his rich looking car and accidentally an ugly piece of your life comes out and you're face turns red and you apologize with pizza grease messing up your foundation and borrowed dress.
The first kiss wasn't a kiss, either. Your teeth mashed together and it was a queer goodnight.
Your first night over ended in nothing but his arm strung too tight around your neck, waking you up every hour.
Your face gently smashed against his chest and you had to peel it off.
The morning included a tangle of sheets, catching your foot and getting stuck. Your hair static and mascara down your eyes.
Carefully Crawling over him, you stepped on his hand and woke him up.
You tried to sneak out, but people watched, judgement in their eyes.
You got home into your own white sheets
And laughed because
It's nothing like the movies
And
It doesn't matter.
Maybe it isn't supposed to be.
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