that summer I tasted music for the first time
I loved a boy who said my knees knocked together like
commuters during rush hour
in his eyes were waves against Barceloneta
and
he slid lyrics in between my ribs at every traffic light
when we made love I saw sound
and
his breath coated me
like varnish
I dreamt I lost him between books at the Rylands;
sliding in and out between hardcovers
I found him soaking
in a clawfoot
masked in steam, coaxing me to slide in
there is a bustle of him in the square,
gradient beard and all
I visit it when we’re apart
despite the stone,
I feel his warmth
Apr 28, 2016
Apr 28, 2016 at 12:35 AM UTC
that summer I tasted music for the first time
I loved a boy who said my knees knocked together like
commuters during rush hour
in his eyes were waves against Barceloneta
and
he slid lyrics in between my ribs at every traffic light
when we made love I saw sound
and
his breath coated me
like varnish
I dreamt I lost him between books at the Rylands;
sliding in and out between hardcovers
I found him soaking
in a clawfoot
masked in steam, coaxing me to slide in
there is a bustle of him in the square,
gradient beard and all
I visit it when we’re apart
despite the stone,
I feel his warmth
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