I couldn’t even afford our first kiss;
in a rented car — it happened quick,
a cheap love on borrowed time,
but we drove it anyway.
Our hands on the wheel felt like
promises, turning too sharp, we
were never licensed to keep it at all.
The engine of us coughed with hope,
the brakes already weak, but still,
we sped down that one-way road.
Speeding too fast.
Every glance—green light.
Every laugh— a corner I couldn’t steer.
Too single; really a turn we didn’t signal.
Love in motion— but emotions unstable,
trying to stay alive.
And when your breath touched mine,
it wasn’t just a kiss— it was the impact,
the sound of an airbag failing, two crashing
hearts colliding into the wall of something
neither of us could truly own.
The irony is: it was the kind of wreck you
never want to walk away from
