I don’t want to be the thought that slips your mind.
I want to be the thought that brings you to your senses, that I could be the one that got away.
But I’m shy, so I’ll never tell you that;
instead, I’ll say something like,
“Do you want to come over and watch TV?”
And I don’t have a TV.
So I’ll be left flicking through the channels of you. My soft kisses on your neck like perfect connection.
I’d tell you things like,
how I know
all your lies and deceptions have just been adverts before the real show, and you’re the star.
If you said, “Baby, glow for me,”
I’d rip out my soul, cut it into a million
little pieces to form constellations to
light your way home.
The distance between your body and mine is the same distance that stretches from heaven to earth.
From left to right,
From rich to poor.
Like, **** we could be so perfect together.
I know **** is a bad word, but it sounds so right,
Like raising a finger at the ******* priest every time he forgets that Eve was Adam’s preceptor.
‘Cause apples are ******* healthy, you patriarchal piece of **** So how about it, my love? Let’s burn the Bible and rewrite it, allowing Lilith and Eve to be together and live in Eden—now how’s that for situational irony?
And any homophobe who dares to turn our rainbows into storms and our glitter into ash will burn and choke on their hate until they swell and combust into cinder.
We’ll laugh and share a kiss on the embers, and it’ll be grand, my love.
But until then,
There’s something like a hurricane in motion when you sweep your hair from your eyes and stare into mine.
Like you’ve seen this show before
and I’m your favourite scene.
So, I was thinking,
Do you want to come over and watch TV?
Mar 7
Mar 7, 2026 at 1:58 PM UTC
I don’t want to be the thought that slips your mind.
I want to be the thought that brings you to your senses, that I could be the one that got away.
But I’m shy, so I’ll never tell you that;
instead, I’ll say something like,
“Do you want to come over and watch TV?”
And I don’t have a TV.
So I’ll be left flicking through the channels of you. My soft kisses on your neck like perfect connection.
I’d tell you things like,
how I know
all your lies and deceptions have just been adverts before the real show, and you’re the star.
If you said, “Baby, glow for me,”
I’d rip out my soul, cut it into a million
little pieces to form constellations to
light your way home.
The distance between your body and mine is the same distance that stretches from heaven to earth.
From left to right,
From rich to poor.
Like, **** we could be so perfect together.
I know **** is a bad word, but it sounds so right,
Like raising a finger at the ******* priest every time he forgets that Eve was Adam’s preceptor.
‘Cause apples are ******* healthy, you patriarchal piece of **** So how about it, my love? Let’s burn the Bible and rewrite it, allowing Lilith and Eve to be together and live in Eden—now how’s that for situational irony?
And any homophobe who dares to turn our rainbows into storms and our glitter into ash will burn and choke on their hate until they swell and combust into cinder.
We’ll laugh and share a kiss on the embers, and it’ll be grand, my love.
But until then,
There’s something like a hurricane in motion when you sweep your hair from your eyes and stare into mine.
Like you’ve seen this show before
and I’m your favourite scene.
So, I was thinking,
Do you want to come over and watch TV?
Love wins every time.
