Spin the Bottle

Cranium subsides to the bottle and the home truths come to light
Along with dares carefully avoided until one steps into the trap,
Caught in the spite that she boldly declared she would face.
The blonde minx sits in her birthday dress, made a fool of already by all,
Even her own lover - she feels knifed but now has the youngest of us
Bound by the rules of the game and the scorn of her own dismissal.
The minx looks from she who is trapped to me and back again,
Smirking as the thought process comes to its awkward climax.
The trapped one will be freed from her brashness only if she
Crosses the room to where I sit - and kisses either crotch or lips!
A momentary pause as myself and the trapped one mull this over,
Carefully avoiding each other’s eyes for fear of making something
Uncomfortable into something overbearing - and the minx just laughs,
Claiming her curiosity lies only in the choice the trapped one makes.
Cornered with only two options, the trapped one makes a snap decision,
Downing her drink to build up some Dutch courage and marches towards
Me.

And I sit in stunned silence, unable to move - not that I wished to.
The trapped one had caught my eye earlier in the night out in the snow
When she missed me with a poorly aimed snowball, resulting in her flight.
My throw was truer than hers had been, but her laugh - inexplicable.
A feeling erupted inside of me, one that had been dormant for so long,
And I cut through snow like hot water, leaving steam trailing in my wake.
A joy for life was reborn that I had only grasped in my most recent dreams,
Ironically which were about the minx, so tenacious in her pursuit of controversy.
Yet the trapped one, still so free while flying in the snow, seemed bound already
To another who I was soon told is close in friendship and not in courtship.
A light blizzard blew all around us, everyone celebrating the minx’s birthday that night,
But within me I felt something else shifting - and the trapped one was the cause.
A bit younger than I, so freer in thought and action, almost whimsical
In stark contrast to my mental struggles and inability to flow so smoothly these days.
And yet, after we trudge back into the heat and begin a game of spin the bottle,
Circumstance and the minx’s very nature see me poised to receive a kiss from
You.

The trapped one, now freed to flee if you so choose - you kiss me instead
And force me to revaluate all my recent revelations in the light of chance.

(now the poems become more recent, and in the case of Spin the Bottle more self-explanatory).