she said, she said, she said...

parking lot kisses and soda tab valentines. always cheek to cheek, intentions always folded, hung, pressed, and finely tuned to perfection. what is there to get angry about when you are mx. right here, right now? the reflection in your eyes bears no semblance to the past, and in your words i hear no preamble to tomorrows spent together, with greying hair and decaying bodies. we are tangled in between youthful promises and light vodka-induced brashness. throw caution to the wind and take rationality to the recycling bin. riding the clock's hands and never looking past the periphery, being caricatures of longtime cliches and being masters of the moment. i like how my soul is still a free spirit that somehow finds its way towards you when it feels like it. never bound by fate, never pressured to bet our next few decades on lucky stars. we are just ghosts who float through skylines and indulge in ephemerality.