Seventeen

I woke up that day feeling special and a brand new 17.

But no one said a word to me, I was totally unseen.

I remember feeling lonely. feeling sad and midnight blue.

I wanted a song, I wanted cake and I wanted to eat it too.

There was a dance that night and, damn it, I was determined to have fun.

The cheap beer sent the hurt away and I danced with everyone.

I found the guy that I thought was cute out on that gym dance floor.

We flirted and he hinted, so we stumbled out the door.

I drove us away in my pick-up truck, that cab full of fire.

I drove us to an empty lot of remorse and teen desire.

It happened there that night in that cold, hard, ridged bed.

I gave away my innocence with very little said.

Of course it was horrific, both the feelings and the fact

that at 17 you're backstage, and simply not the big main act.

I prayed for something more after that awkward-ending night.

But I barely got a head nod, his lips forever tight.

Maybe if I felt more confident, it would've been easier to see.

I just wanted to be liked and he never wanted me.

Maybe it would've ended differently if the day's feelings weren't far flung.

Or do girls just hang their hearts where there's nowhere to be hung?

I wish I could say that I learned my lesson after that high school dance.

But it took years before I liked myself to ever give myself a chance.

A chance to feel like I deserve to feel like a number one.

Because I'm worth it and he's not and that lonely search is done.

I suppose it's part of my story now: girl gets crushed, boy moves on.

In high school, we're on a chess board and I was 100% his pawn.

It helps that I'm married now and look better than before all that.

I don't know where he is now, but I know he's bald and fat.