you taste like ashes and Colectivo coffee and everything that i hate
it’s a bad idea with an accelerated heart rate
and you feel like a one am decision no longer up for debate

but your sheets are warm and you smell like soap and cheap cologne
and two seconds later my lips are bruised and my shirt is torn
by the sound of muffled footsteps and a hidden groan

and i know you made it clear that i could stay
tangled in your feet and in your reckless ways
but after the actors finish the play
i guess they have to leave anyway