even before the 2 minutes that their lips came crashing down on each others they know it's meant to be
because even though she tasted like ***** and vanilla
and he tasted like cigarettes and cherry cola
they feel right at home with each other
and that's different for both of them because they're not perfect
and that's okay
but this feels like blissful oblivion
and they're both bad for each other and make the other person vulnerable
and they know it
but there's nothing they want to change
because this is better than any moment of their lives
and nothing was more perfect
even though it was almost 4 am
and they were strangers to each other who only met hours before at the club
but they don’t care
because their eyes locked
and they couldn’t take it off each other
and everyone said that they’d never last because they were the same, all leather jackets and rebellious and that alike repelled
but they’d disagreed
because they were too much in what seemed like love;
but he left her
and was soon behind someone else
and her heart broke and shattered
like how an intricate vase which used to be beautiful would
and she promised herself she’d never be vulnerable
and that’s why she’s got no identity now
but she doesn’t mind
and she prays,
oh she prays every night
that when she dies and goes to heaven,
she’ll meet him there
because she admits that she’ll gladly suffer heartbreak and hell in the afterlife
just for those 2 minutes of love like she’d never known back.