Bar Bae

I met you in a bar in Philadelphia when your semester had just started and my relationship had just ended. You had a blue shirt on and you were dancing alone, the room was full of dancing people- but I saw you.

I met you in a bar in Philadelphia after swearing up and down that I never wanted to talk to a boy again. "Tequila will be my boyfriend!" I screamed as I inserted two dollars into the Trolley coin slot. In my little crop top and black mini skirt, I was looking for myself. I wasn't looking for you.

I met you in a bar in Philadelphia and I never wanted to meet another boy again. You put your number in my phone and you looked at me like you were the luckiest boy on earth. "I can't even stand how he's looking at you," my best friend said right before I let myself decide that I should probably give you my number too.

I met you in a bar in Philadelphia and one week later you called me your girl. I didn't know you could feel fireworks and that you could be so recklessly high without a drug- but it turns out you can. It was moving fast and it scared you. It was moving fast and it didn't scare me at all.

I met you in a bar in Philadelphia, but somewhere between the 'i miss you' texts and the wine bottles I found myself thinking of you in some of the most beautiful cities in the world. I wasn't sure who I was, you weren't sure who you wanted to be. I couldn't come to your party because I was 300 miles away.


You met her in a bar in Philadelphia. Your new relationship had just started and my relationship had just ended.