Sweet punishment’s weakened blow, the moment our wrong things met. It was the wrong time, and still a time I dreamt of saying all the wrong things to you. Tempers frenzy with emotion over what not to do, in all the wrong places, I’d run into you. A trapped me, drifting amidst the stargaze of all your wrong things, within heaven seconds of experiencing you.
Yet, as fate would have it, your wrong things struck perfection. And, like the ritual, your perfection made everything wrong about me feel right.
Always one to suffer in prudence, I see you realized that wrong thing too.
Hide and be all the wrong people to one another again?
I’m not right for you.