We are a story of bad timing
We let each other in, arms swing wide
Holding the elevator door
We were both destined to be going down
You never realize the change of elevation until your ears pop
Space was tight between us like knots in braids, the air hung hot above us as if we were steaming
The confined walls fogging
The thing about this amorous vapor is it never last very long
The doors eventually open
And we can either choose to step off, or suffocate
We are a story of bad timing
Getting in an elevator
Seconds before a fire