I think that before and after we kissed are two different timelines.

I'd like to believe that my kiss has made you see me in a whole different light.

I remember once kissing you, your face lit by northern stars. Promising to grow old with you, and now so simply breaking the promise.

He was acting like our kiss had broken him, and his reaction was breaking me.

And his eyes were fluttering shut, and his sinner’s smile- that wickedly wondrous thing- was less than an inch from mine. And soon enough, there was no space between them at all. He tasted like chances.