I met you in a crowded room,
as crowded as the closet in my bedroom,
With jeans and blouses
of different colors and sizes,
Just as my shoes, not worn out,
even after years of being worn.
In there, we bumped onto each others shoulders.
You seemed older. No, you were older.
Yet you looked just as my wardrobe:
tailor-fitted, designed specially for me.
There’s no doubt, it was love at first sight
between the dance floor and the night.
Though, my margarita must have kicked my spirit
a little higher than the sky’s limit
because I thought your pupils were the moon
dilating as I got closer:
a little bright . . .
a littler brighter than the room’s lights,
yet somehow, I knew your voice
was the music asking me to waltz
amongst the stars.
So I followed,
I followed the rhythm of your hands
guide me to the corner of that bar
attempt to undress myself out of your grasp.
Only to realize
you were not my perfect fit
six sizes bigger
of a jerk
could ever wear.
Written by: Lucero L.