I want your lips, they're like morphine. Stop pretending and cover yourself in me. Let me spill into your head, fall onto your bed. Let's entangle ourselves in the questions we dare not answer and the bonds we are afraid to share. Stop saying it cant work when you want it to so badly, and begin plotting the demise of this storybook love that could be something more than nothing. It could be real, intense, and alive. We could create something alive.
We alone hold these answers and refuse to let them cross our sinful lips. We are not trying to keep them to ourselves, but merely avoiding the obvious questions that are piled onto answers. Nothing can ever be so simple as to exist without reason or answer. We alone cannot be one in the same because it would be all too simple.
But we ARE in the same, and we know it. We know it every time we say friend. We know it simply by looking at one another. We know it when we are listening to the music, singing the same words that we long to speak to each other. We alone are the same, and at the same time, have no idea what to do with that information.
What a crying shame that two people in the same cannot at least try to change.
