kissing on your bed with you
listening to childish gambino
somehow
your hands find my face and
my skin tingles

but this isn’t love. last night you told me to
keep myself to a minimum suffocate
the parts of me you didn’t find beautiful and so
I did.

tongue tastes a lot like heaven
I think as you grab me in all the places
you shouldn’t and I’m still
stuck on the way your arms are

prickled like cactus. (stop
puncturing holes in me is caught in the
back of my throat
yet i say nothing.) you taste like a
volcano threatening to erupt

but I like the way you look when you’re
spread out on your bed eyes closed and sometimes
I feel beautiful

we’ve stopped kissing
my lips are chapped and
everything is quiet. including the way
my phone rings and mom tells me

she’s picking me up
we say goodbye.
we do not hug.