It was the third time
I’d switched records that day
The day I met him.
Nothing felt right
Until he caught my eye
He was a special kind of trouble
The kind that didn’t need changing.
I could tell from the exact moment he walked in
It was as if he wanted me to notice
The way he ran his fingers through his hair, looked around and picked up the same record I was playing
He knew
No one had to speak
Some call it fate
I call it hell.




#writing#poetry#creativity#story#love#music