Maybe it’s because you tasted like love
Maybe under the taste of tobacco
and Budweiser
I could taste love in you
And I swear it tasted like honey
Like purified lust

Maybe it’s because we looked like love
Always with your hand on my thigh
Always with your arm on my shoulders
Walking down the street holding hands
almost like that’s what we were supposed to be

Or maybe you tasted like love
Because you were willing to try
Maybe you held my hand because
you wanted to stay close
like magnets
like Bonne and Clyde
Like you and me
Maybe I tasted love in you because
that’s what you could’ve been

You tasted like love but you
turned me into a crime scene
Cause love only tastes good with a little pain
and I’ve never been too good with stitches
but you learn these things in heartbreak

—  “Almost” is an ugly word but it’s still exactly what we were

“Asking for greater representation doesn’t limit the possibilities of the genre; it expands them. More characters, more cultures, more stories. With that comes more hope; more possibility; more empathy.” – Jim Hines, “Representation and the Seeds of Possibility”