With a grain of salt

 And suddenly I find myself confronted with a very real feeling. 

A compliment. A keen eye. A soft touch. A hug lingering a bit longer than it ought to. The fuzz on the nape of your neck brushes up against my cheek sending a chill throughout. An electric resonance... Is there really something there or is it a figment of my desire? 

I should take the words of a drunk with a grain of salt. I know this and yet still I want to believe it's true. 

Words said so casually perhaps inspire feelings I should be smart enough to ignore. 

And yet here I am fluttering at the thought. 

But still, I'll take it with a grain of salt.  A drunken flirt is a drunken flirt.