You were a figure of speech, I was a matter of fact, at cross purpose. "Nothing in my head", she whispers into the mirror, as if it could hear her soft sobbing. I went to liminal space, and they all knew your face and phone number. You ware an ambulance, I was a flaming wreck, and we were lovers. My kiss is cola flavoured and my blood is a hot commodity. Is this what you wanted? Is this what you like? Each day is a new touch barrier, like each word is a promise that you can't keep. Is this what you wanted? Is this what you like? You made my mouth run dry, I made your blood run cold, it's not nothing. "You're wasting my time". She sighs and sips at her drink, "I hope I never find out what you're thinking". You're at the idiot shop, and every name they drop is spelled backwards. I was an ambulance, you were the edge of a cliff, and we were lovers.