Come back, come back.
Let's empty our pockets
and settle this.
There's still some
treason on your lips I'd like
to kiss away.
But pain stays.
And love doesn't always
conquer everything,
because it's half-witted
and I'm stinging.
Still withering in self-doubt.
Still wishing we could
flout ideals and 
stick to opening arguments.
I'm starving to start this
all over again.
But flesh can't rewind
to decry old crimes,
or make them right.