Biting my Nails

Story from the Road

… so I tapped the girl’s shoulder. She turned around. It wasn’t you. 

Nerves got me biting my nails. Some of the biggest shows I’ve done are coming up around the bend. I hope I’m worthy of myself. I don’t know that I have been recently. 

Whatever happened happened and I still don’t know what happened. I’m trying to keep level headed but there’s water on my brain. Desire, that’s what has always fueled me. I wonder if it’s enough. I wonder if I’m enough. 

She just might call me again. What would there be to say? What really needs to be said? She just might call me. But it won’t be tonight. And I won’t be here. 

Once again I got that feeling. That feeling that I got something to prove. I know the feeling. I keep it in my pocket and reach for it from time to time so as not to forget it. 

I’ve done some of my best work on the inspiration of a single woman. A woman I don’t even see. I’ve done some of my best work hanging on a single kiss. And she wasn’t that good a kisser. 

Two rules he said to me “number 1: never fall for a woman until you’ve slept with her. Number 2: never sleep with a woman until you’ve fallen for her.” 

My nerves got me biting my nails. And I need my nails. I watch passing strangers in case I might see you. Could it be you? Are you even real? It is you…

So I tapped the girl’s shoulder. She turned around. It wasn’t you. 

I got a lot on my mind. Things I have to get done. Last night I kissed a stranger. It served as a reminder that it wasn’t you. I knew it wasn’t you. It couldn’t be you. You wouldn’t have been there. 

I wrote something for you. A piece for my show. You’ll probably never see it. You might not even be able to pick out which one it was if you did see it. Maybe I didn’t write it for you after all. I don’t know who you are. It’s been too long. Maybe I wrote it for who you used to be. 

I don’t dream anymore. In order to dream you got to sleep and I don’t sleep anymore. I lay awake at night tired but restless.

It isn’t about you. It was never about you. It’s about something else entirely. 

I spotted her from across the room. She was coolin’ with her back to me. Talking to someone. I was waiting for the conversation to end. But I couldn’t wait any longer. It was you. I knew it was.  It had to be. 

So I tapped her on the shoulder. She turned around. It wasn’t you. I looked at her face dumbly. She looked at me with question marks in her eyes. I leaned in for a kiss. She took it. Nothing sparked. Nothing going. All it did was serve as a reminder that she wasn’t you. And that you weren’t there. 

I walked away biting my nails. Maybe she’ll call again. But it won’t be tonight and I won’t be here.