Sometimes my thoughts get the better of me.
Instead of being who we are, sometimes I wonder if we
were anything but who we are, who would we be. You know?
Would we still be destined to meet.
By some divine twist.
Would you happen to be the soda beside me and I were a set of lips.
Would purpose still play a big factor, knowing you'd
Be that essential thing that would fill this urge. Not because it would be just,
you know, something momentary just because it's there.
I'd never misuse you, 
Choosing to embrace you with the slightest touch.
The taste of something new, something refreshing.
Without fear that you'd be anything other than yourself.
Sweet, giving.
Hands wouldn't play apart of how much or how little you'd give
As I'd be grateful you thought enough of me to present yourself the way 
you have.
A clear bottle with red and white wrapping.
Lost in a ocean of dark brown