I could've been looking at the sky.
I could've tied my shoe,
Or buttoned my pants.

I could've picked up my phone,
Or made a mug of coffee.
But no, you stole that moment from me.

You mashed my lips against yours,
Tender but firm,
Just the way that girl taught you when you were twelve.

It's not that I mourn those lost moments;
In fact, I'm quite glad about their passing.
Your lips are much better company.

But, what if, what if, there had been a falling star?
And what if now I trip on my laces?
You would now be to blame.

Now, I have a missed call,
And I'm uncaffeinated at work.
It is your fault, your *****, rotten lips.

Was it intentional?
Did your mouth set out to sabotage my day?
Or is my preoccupation with kissing you just the way God made me?

Whatever it is, I think we'd better stop.
This love affair of our lips has become hazardous to my health.
Oh, but that smile of yours.

Your perfect lips folding back to show pearl teeth,
And your eyes, oh, your eyes.
One more kiss won't hurt.