there's a path of wet kisses

danced up an emaciated spine,

the one that belongs to the skinny

and precious boy,

laid out underneath you.



you know each **** there,

have counted them multiple times.



there's something beautiful, you think,

in the way the bones crafted themselves,



The way they formed and fit;



locked away beneath tight skin.





you wrap a hand around the beak-like neck,

the fragile piece you love,

and when you squeeze,

the boy doesn't reject it.



his pulse is quickening,

trying to break through the skin,

you can feel it reaching for you,

it begs silently.





"Shh,"

you say,

"don't make a noise,"



so the boy closes his throat,

holds back that rebellious tap,tap,tap,

and falls.



hands rest now, unclenched,

and you let go then.



you will him to breathe,

and somehow he knows,

knows what you want like its carved into him.



there's blood on his lips,

blood on his nose,

and tears in the corners of his eyes,

hiding away





you smile because you can't help it.



you love him,

yet you want to **** him.