My mouth does not yet taste of wrong,
But I can smell it from afar.
Our lips have yet to touch,
But I’ll hear your heart break before long.
My curiosity carries me like the sea,
Away to islands of unknown,
But it might push me into the ocean floor,
Alone and wounded as can be.
Fleeting moments, forbidden things,
Worse yet is, you want them too.
With my yet remaining conscience,
I’m ruining both of our sweet whims.
Changing friendships is the deadliest of things.
But who am to declare sins?
I wasn’t born to be an angel;
Let our odd story begin.