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.
Jul 19, 2017
Jul 19, 2017 at 9:04 PM UTC
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.
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