Collided with you on my way to work,
No, it wasn’t a sign, wasn’t destiny’s quirk.
A swollen temple and a bruised nose
Do not herald a date, a wedding, or even a rose.

Dropped my books on my way to class,
Our fingers brushed when you knelt on the grass
Music blasting from the dorm on the second floor
I nodded my thanks and walked through the door.

I know they say it’s divine intervention,
But it’s more just my lack of hand-eye coordination.
I know you believe we were meant to be
But I need spectacles more than a relationship.

Now my scarf’s stuck to your wrist watch,
My hem’s ripped, your buckle’s botched.
I knew I shouldn’t have bought the lace
Oh ****! Did you think this was decreed by fate?

Spilled my coffee on your shirt front
****! Was it Ralph Lauren? Peter England?
Here’s a coupon for a dry-cleaning discount
Just tell me you don’t think this counts.

Look, I’m not saying you’re reading too much into this,
Though that might be an accurate analysis.
All I’m saying is our future looks accident prone
So maybe invest in an insurance plan before a wedding loan.

Walked through a field full of llamas
Wooly babies, papas, and mamas
But these llamas were purists
And spat on this tourist
Turning excitement to trauma

Hello everybody. My name is Neal and I'm your tour guide.
The first creature that we will see is a koala, to your right. Do you know that koala's have fingerprints very similar to those of humans?
So much so that their prints have been mistaken for a human's at crime scenes?
Anyways, this leads us to ask some very important questions: are methods of finding criminals therefore unreliable? Is it truly possible to avoid imprisoning those that are innocent? Is reality merely an allusion?
Or, more importantly, was it my boyfriend John with the good fashion sense that took my hairbrush? Or was it that little ***** Bernard that is hiding in the top left corner?
Anyways, to your left you'll see our world renowned snail tank. Snails can sleep for up to three years at a time....

It wasn't a ****,
Honest!
It was my shoe rubbing the floor,
I promise!
Ok,
So the noise can't be recreated,
I still don't want this debated.
I.
Didn't.
****.

I mourn for your lips

So much that I feel aches that send speckles of darkness sinking into the pit of my stomach
and your smile alludes the impression that you are satisfied by this
and I discern the notion  of my lips having been touched but never really kissed

yet still, I mourn for your lips

lips that I have kissed, that never kissed me.