Nothing is sadder than two lips
 meeting again for the first time 
 in a long time, 
 they’re basically strangers
  
 Nothing’s more awkward than
 that hallway dance of, 
 “who’s going which way?” 
 Switch, and ebb, and flow, 
 but no one’s truly wanting to go, 
 so, they both stay pressed 
 against the other for nostalgia  
  
 Fighting to figure out 
 whose kissing instruments 
 now sing a new tune removed from 
 the one they both used to know, 
 the one they sang in harmony, 
 easily and passionate  
  
 As much as they try 
 to be peaceful,
 the lips are at war, 
 their lyrics not in sync,
 so, they hum two different songs 
 together for a moment,
 praying it will bring them closer,   
 but they no longer sound good 
 sung in unison 
  
 Two lips, who once knew 
 how to set up 
 for the other’s set, 
 run wires, play drums, 
 fine tune, and fall into 
 the tiniest of increments 
 without feeling alone, 
 smush instinctively at once, into mush,   
 sprinting through some reminiscent trial run,  
 pretending one will solve the puzzle, 
 like, “it will click!” 
  
 Two lips forget how quick it slips, the muscle memory.