Last night I went out.
It’s been a while.
No agenda, no strings.
No one to answer to.
No one to come home to.
Last night I put on a tight black dress.
You never saw this dress.
It’s an attention seeking dress.
It’s a “Fuck you, I’m fabulous” dress.
Last night I let my hair go.
No primping, no fussing.
The way you liked it.
It always looked best after rolling around with you.
Last night I flirted in the elevator.
It was harmless.
But it was empowering.
And it was liberating.
And it was fun.
Last night I drank negronis on a rooftop.
I made new friends.
We closed down the bar.
Last night I walked into a wine bar just before last call.
What do I see?
Champagne magnums and a cute somm.
My dream.
Last night I got giddy over a glass of wine.
That cute somm saw me sitting by myself.
Everyone else was out smoking.
He poured me a taste.
It was electric.
I loved it.
I made a witty observation.
There was laughter.
It was the exact type of exchange you and I used to have.
But it wasn’t you.
It’s not you anymore.
Last night I took a step away from you.
Everything I did reminded me of you.
Of us.
I couldn’t stop thinking about you.
But something shifted.
Last night I started to let you go.
