When I kissed your lips,
I lit your spark and extinguished mine,
and how,
how I wish I could take that kiss back.

In the steps away,
the candle that once held that spark
sunk to the bottom of my stomach,
so I ran to the bathroom and threw the candle up,
washed my hands of the remains,
and dispensed towels to wipe the wax off my lips.
When asked, I couldn’t fein positivity, 
so I acted neutrally to seem nonchalant,
and when you realized my nonchalance
meant disinterest weeks later,
after movie-date-popcorn-mate-who-was-a-bit-late,
I couldn’t tell you through the same lips
that you kissed for the first time,
your first. time.

Did I steal your potential or was it inevitable?

And I couldn’t have told you through the same lips
you stared at while I talked for hours, 
because you would only begin to hate their ability, 
their synchronicity you dreamed of
while skipping away happily.
The smoke from that extinguished flame
curled up into my mouth and
poisoned the following words,
I’m busy.

From now until my future,

I am busy.

Let’s check back in a few weeks!