First spin

The kitchen counter, sticky, warm.

Cheap vodka, orange, tasted sweet.

That 90s track, a coming storm,

made my young heart skip a beat.

My head, it spun, a dizzy blur.

The room tilted, lost its line.

A laugh too loud, a foolish slur,

this newfound freedom, hardly mine.

I swayed, then stumbled, almost fell.

The metallic taste, a burning shame.

A bitter secret I couldn't tell,

just whispered out a stranger's name.