Leading You On

My bag, it smells of mint and smoke,
Like your lips,
chapped and full.
When I kiss you I let go of my charms
for a moment.
You speak your soul
and love seeps in my veins
for a moment.
Before it's false and faded and no better alternative
to death by your hand,
splintered and soft.

So I end up with my feet on the ground,
alone and melancholy.
My bag hung over my shoulder,
far from home,
far from my heart,
far from letting myself go,
even for a moment.