Letting Herself Out

It didn't matter who we were with our pants down,
or what our attitude was like behind closed doors.

Perception was reality,
and that was all that mattered.

But all that flooded my mind at the moment,
were strobe lights and loud music.

Many women had whispered their names across my neck;
yet there was only one I remembered.

It was strange;
most women became angry when I'd tell them to,
"Let themselves out."

But not her,
she was dressed before I'd even had time
to form the words.

"You don't have to leave just yet you know," I was good at playing coy.

"I didn't pack my toothbrush," she was obviously better at it than I was.

It burned having been treated like that.
I guess for the first time I wanted someone else's scent.

"Pull yourself together Gus," I thought,
"You'll get over her and yourself. You always do."

And with that she let herself out.