Jan 2013
August 26, 2012
When he looks at me, it feels like he looks right through me. His eyes pierce through mine like a red hot nail. Just one quick look and every part of me from the inside starts wiggling. It's the way it feels that he's reading my thoughts when he looks at me, like he knows exactly how he's making me feel and he does it on purpose to drive me insane because he gets a rush off it.
Every time he speaks, opens his mouth, moves his lips, so beautiful, it kills me to have to control myself. All I can see is him using those strong teeth to bite into my neck to muffle the moans. And when he laughs, it sends a warm happiness into me. Like if he's happy, I can be happy, and when he's sad, nothing is right.
And oh god, when he smiles.
He is so remarkable. Like a perfect sculpture of humanity. A rigid, masculine jaw, solid hipbones, a small, muscular waist, toned arms that have just a little more than a hint of proud biceps, and a smile that lights up the country.
He is my best friend. Like brother and sister. But siblings don't spend a ****, beautiful, romantic night together that feels so right right and feels so wrong, and means so much, and means so little.
Maybe one day, he'll see how happy I want to make him. Time to try again.
When he looks at me, it feels like he looks right through me. His eyes pierce through mine like a red hot nail. Just one quick look and every part of me from the inside starts wiggling. It's the way it feels that he's reading my thoughts when he looks at me, like he knows exactly how he's making me feel and he does it on purpose to drive me insane because he gets a rush off it.
Every time he speaks, opens his mouth, moves his lips, so beautiful, it kills me to have to control myself. All I can see is him using those strong teeth to bite into my neck to muffle the moans. And when he laughs, it sends a warm happiness into me. Like if he's happy, I can be happy, and when he's sad, nothing is right.
And oh god, when he smiles.
He is so remarkable. Like a perfect sculpture of humanity. A rigid, masculine jaw, solid hipbones, a small, muscular waist, toned arms that have just a little more than a hint of proud biceps, and a smile that lights up the country.
He is my best friend. Like brother and sister. But siblings don't spend a ****, beautiful, romantic night together that feels so right right and feels so wrong, and means so much, and means so little.
Maybe one day, he'll see how happy I want to make him. Time to try again.
I briefly had feelings for my best friend after my ex left. This poem was written before I came to terms with the fact it was never going to happen.
(30/Non-binary/Montreal)
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