What if I told you your smile can kill my fear of death? Would you believe me, or would you tell me to stop being such a troubled poet? What if told you my cigarettes taste better when you hold my hand? Would you tell me to stop smoking, or would you kiss my lips, ignoring my ashy breath? And what if I told you you make me want to pick my pen up and write you a hundred songs I cannot sing? Would you tell me to go to sleep, or would you hop inside my dreams? What if I told you I want to drive with you for a thousand miles? Would you run away, or would you grab us some gasoline? What if I told you I want you? Would you leave the bed, or would you spread your legs? What if I told you I loved you? Would you point to the mistakes I made, or would you keep telling me you’re not afraid?
And what if I told you I don’t want you to answer any of these questions. I just want you to kiss me. Again, and again.