How selfish to want
Want what does not belong to me
But take it because I can
It's 1am on a Friday morning
My head nuzzled into his chest
His breath gently grazing my neck
I listen for the sound
The mechanism inside his chest
I gravitate towards its pull
As he dozes off
Whilst tangling his fingers in my hair
I listen to the metronome
A sound that puts me to sleep
With the rise and fall of each breath
I become confused listening to clock inside his chest
This compass is not mine
Something doesn't sound right
It hasn't given me chills
It hasn't left me in awe
Of how a simple pulse could keep my favorite human alive
Perhaps he's not my favorite
And my attraction falls short of a fallacy
What am I doing
With this tattoo covered boy
In my silk sheets
Whom is clenching my half naked body.
But my god, we look like art
Disillusioned and stained
Lonely as can be
Him
Me