Tied Down Kind of Girl

Four years ago I was in a bathroom in a basement, lights outside, rushed to legacy.
A year ago I was in a black and white bed tapering his hair with my finger tips, feeling the skin on his stomach as his eyes traced the corners of my hips.  Laughing on the kitchen counter over a spliff and the constant argument of Jiff versus Skippy. You always loved Skippy. I cleaned the dishes in the sink, I folded your clothes and got into bed. Waking up early to let kitty in. A black and white comforter covering your bone skinny body, that straight tooth smile, I knew I would break it. 
I feel like it all happened within ten minutes, from the moment you got home from Hawaii, we had a minute in my apartment and then we were on the hill, but it wasn't us together, it was me dancing alone to the beat of the drum. I craved it, that feeling of being without, of being taken and being seduced by freedom. You left me, you went back. I dare not leave the only place where I find my true escape. 
I never told you.. I ran my fingers up his back, I drew stars and hearts on his skin with my hands. 
It happened without warning, the quick manner in which he grabbed my face and kissed me. 
I left you in anger and found him in repose. I needed someone who wanted my fire, the deep yearning desire to fulfill someone with everything I am. 
I never looked back.
That feeling up my spine, the dark bar and the loud music. He asked me to follow, to get in the van, I sat on the front steps listening to music I was so confused, within hours you went from being my world to being my deepest kept regret. 
He did what you never could.
He would listen to me as I talked about the smell of the rain on the pavement, how it smelled when I was little. He hugged me as he inhaled his cigarette, I could feel his heart jumping through his shirt, through my skin, on those warm July nights. 
We wrapped ourself in the comforter out front in the chair, smoking cigarettes and whispering until we retired to be tangled limbs in his soft room.
I know the curve of his body because I'd watch it when he walked, he was the life of the party, always showing off. I'd shine my crooked smile behind my messy hair, and he'd grab me and breathe me in. The smell of salty summer skin, the taste of smoke on his bottom lip. If it was all a joke, I was laughing.
I loved his handshake meeting my father, the sound of old paint on farm houses, the taste of tea and the sound of bees. Or how he would kiss me when I was in the middle of saying...

I'll never be a tied down girl