Last Night

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.

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