It was a startling spectacle,
sad, sweet, saccharine,
a violin’s slow swell.
our mouths had clipped shut with words unsaid,
—breathless, stunned, aching,
a casual wave, followed by nights of bitter regret.

If I had asked you to, again,
in the right time, in the right place,
would you have run away with me?

For we had lied in desert waters,
and dreamt of cinematic dreams.
Drowned in our notorious luxuries,
of vending machines and stolen things.

And we had smoked cigarettes
and spent nights lying beside one another,
—blackouts,  confusion mixed with longing,
and the unshakable feeling
that our lives may be a mess,
but all had been right in the world.