Run home for a taste.
Your kiss on my lips is a burn.
The burn on my lips is your kiss.
Every look around is the last, until the next.
Every cherry I took started with defeat, for i stake my claim on another's land.
This cold isn't so bad when my glass is filled with gold which I dug for... in another's home.
The outcome I must own, It is mine, mine alone.
Your passage with me in the end is clear, and bares our sin, that those we love may never understand and it's OK.

-ac