Pulp Fiction

You say let's chalk it up

and blame it on the drunkenness,

but a part of me wants to believe

that this was meant to happen.

We were supposed to find ourselves

drunk on whiskey on a rainy

Wednesday summer afternoon,

our foreheads touching as we 

drunkenly giggle at the idea of us,

with our faces lit up by the faint glow

of Pulp Fiction on the TV screen,

and me begging you with my eyes

to kiss me.

And we never even got to finish

that damn movie

or find out what happens next;

I guess we were too busy

writing our own story

that we'll chalk up tomorrow

and blame on the drunkenness.