Dance

I didn't mean to get drunk into you, you know?

It just happened, and now I am a messy and tangled mess with lots of questions.

No answers.
The only one near me to look for advise it's, yeah, you. No thanks.

As if you could easy up my nerves, really.. I just said I got drunk because of you. 

You and your playful grin directed at my face, your hot hands on my waist, your trippy feet stomping mine.

Your damn stare.

Not the best adviser right now, really. 

I can't stand it, that's why I need to sober myelf up.
I want you to let go of me. Except...
No.
Actually, I don't.

I won't fall, I repeat to myself.

I won't.

I won't.

I won't.

You sense my thoughts, I can feel it, because suddenly you are playing with my hair.

I can't sober up if you keep doing nonsense. 

Read this internal musing: I am drunk! Stop at this instant or I'll puke my rants!

You do it again: you laugh.

You fucking laugh at me now?

I want to get free from your hug, if only..

If only I had the will, the strenght, the need to do so.

You're insufferable. I confirm.

You snuggle your nose in my hair..

A beat.

I won't fucking fall for you.

Then and there, the music stops blasting.

I can't hold my insides anymore. I tried, but your laugh made it.

"I'm drunk"

I admit, not telling you of the damn substance I am actually intoxicated with.

You are still holding me, like a mind reader, knowing the rest of the sentence I just started.

You tighten your hold, craddling my face out of nowhere.

I can't.

I puke.

"I just said I'm drunk"

..Or I tried to. I can't rant you right now. I can't tell you to let go.

I feel so dissapointed in myself. So brittle. So stupid.

I lean into your touch.

I feel electricity in our shared gaze.

I'm so sick.

Aren't you?