Written at age 15... it's rusty:


**Last night you were the focus of my dreams.

There were others, swirling in and out, and making demands, and just visiting, but yours was the only face that stood out.

And you were happy, for once.

We sat on my bed just soaking up each other and you weren’t pressuring me into *** or out of your mind upset, there was some sort of resonating contentedness and I felt fuller than I have felt in so long.

Almost like it was back to last fall, and you still wanted me.

Then you got up, picked up a black bag and walked away, without a word or backwards glance. I might have been asleep, or merely preoccupied, or maybe I just sat there and watched you leave, as if I had known this was to be our fate all along. I remember wondering when you were planning on coming back, when deep down I knew.

You weren’t coming back at all.

     I woke up to a plethora of messages from other boys, like always, and I wondered why none of them had made it into my dreams.

And why none of them were from you.