The Corrupted Cowboy

This man tastes like ultra’s being gulped down to wash down the fear that the lies will merge into the truth, leaving me hungover and in a living hell. I take his hand (occasionally), only when he demands it, oh but when he drops it, I know it’s to keep people wondering. The rumors aren’t true, and they’re not false either. I know better than to make deals with the devil because God spills secrets that leave me wanting to run back to the dancefloor, all alone. To a time when being single didn’t single me out. His two stepping isn’t as smooth, and I feel the dancefloor caving in on me. Insecurities run deep, and gaslighting is a real thing. I am no longer who I used to be, I am no longer who I want to be…I am a woman full of uncertainty. His dark brown eyes remind me of everything I never wanted, yet I stay in hopes of finding something in the darkness that has consumed my entire being. I wish I wouldn’t have let the tequila and lime blur the lines. His friendship only leaves me lovesick, and wondering how tragically this will end. The pain begs me to stay and my tears gently touch my face like his hands once did. Take the cowboy hat and Bronco away, and there is only an allusion of what a gentleman is. This man is not gentle with my heart nor does he plan to take me away to a place where a sunset will serenade me in his arms. He holds me at arms length now – strangers, and that’s where the danger will leave me wanting to grasp onto his sweaty button up shirt. When the lights turn on, his musky scent disappears, leaving me wanting more while I am alone. The tequila will wear off, but I will be left wishing to go back to the night we met. I’d leave that cowboy sitting in the smoking area alone, lingering onto the fact that he would be left in a bind with no soul to steal. My idea of a corrupted cowboy, cradling his lies to rope someone in. Take it from me: his love is a sin.