Page 29 of Missed Exit

But the way I love the dark

New boots for an old rundown bar

The promise of a heartbreak

Sunglasses on my dash

Parked next to your truck

Yeah, I know I should avoid this place

But it’s fun here in the dark.

Last call always comes way too soon

The promise of more regret

Fumbled keys in the lock

Fallin’ on your bed

No denying this is a mistake

But it feels right in the dark

Drag my fingernails down your back

The promise of one more lie

Empty words from your mouth

Tangled up in these sheets

It’s still impossible to forget

The way you love me in the dark

I’ll stall when my friends ask me why

The promise of all their wrath

Too shameful to explain

Sure I’ll do it again

I wish I understood it myself

Just the way I love the dark

It’s something. It’s more words than I’ve been able to string together since I wrote the song about longing. But I don’t long for what’s happening in these lyrics. I may have been a fool for far too long, but when the end finally came, I could let go.

I wouldn’t spend another night with Brick if he crawled across broken glass and begged.

I’ve just written about a woman who knows she’s hurting herself when she has the power to stop it. Or she should have the power. But what does it mean? Is it about reconciling her loss of control, or maybe facing the fact that she never had as much as she thought she did?

Huh. I close my notebook and slip it back into my purse.

Writing is so weird. Just when you’re afraid your creative well has run completely dry, new words show up out of nowhere.

---