We speak words with blurry intentions, 

words that hang like bitter confessions. 

We waste time like a pack of cigarettes-- 

you’re looking at me like I’m a lost bet. 

Maybe we’ll recover, but my head aches, 

maybe you’ll stay until our silence breaks. 

Kiss my pretty face, 

And cough up the words you can’t say. 

I’m your ibuprofen to get through the drive, 

You’re my pain killer keeping me alive. 

I’ll be your medication on the long highways, 

But we’ll be lost the moment the high fades. 

Kiss me again because we’re not ready to fly, 

Tell me, how hard must we hit the ground to die? 

Kiss my pretty face, 

And take up all of my vacant space.