I'm only human...

I'm sipping coffee at a quarter to two
awake and contemplating and my mind's
running to you.
It's no wonder I'm a one woman man,
she keeps my heart in a jar on her nightstand

Lately, I've looked into the mirror and seen a face he created.

It isn't mine. My trademark stare, my flirtatious eyelashes and ironic sideways smile are gone, replaced by a shadow-eyed and solemn-faced girl that I don't recognize. She isn't pretty. I don't like her, and I blame him for her existence.

So I've been on a mission. One that will erase this girl from my mirror in a wash of lipstick and good shoes and perfume that conjures images of dark corners and cool sheets.

... Mission accomplished. Well, mission begun at least.

If I had to say why, it was the way his eyes closed when he played the bass...

I should have known that it would get me into just the right kind of trouble, that dreamy, half-awake look of complacent ecstasy that took over his face as his long-fingered hands coaxed melodies from the strings.

I couldn't stop watching. Not the band, just him. And he knew it.

He sent over a drink and dedicated a song to 'the girl who's taste in music seems to be as good as her taste in whiskey.' And I was lost, in a good way. In a way I haven't been in a long time.

Like I said, the right kind of trouble.