Do we confess to our crimes tonight?
Before I get the chance to flee,
We’ll find that we’re not quite
What we’d expected love to be.
You kiss me and I slur my words,
I get lost in streetlight.
I can’t help but stumble towards
“Could”, “Would”, and “Might”.
There’s nothing I can do;
My heart thinks it’s common sense.
My blood has traces of you,
Though we exist in the past tense.
The air hasn’t settled since you left,
Ribcage rattled, heart cleft.