Could it have been love?
My on and off intimacy with a boy who had the flesh of a man.
I think of him
And the chill of daybreak that seeped into the den where we lay
Wrapped in each other, buried beneath covers from the sun
I remember how cold that den had been
To the point we searched for warmth in each other.
He completed me... only momentarily.
Then gauged deeper into my emptiness.
He sought me in winter and dumped me in summer.
Spring bared no fruit for our affection.
If love is a blossoming flower then ours was plucked early.
I know that his hands caress another
And I want to ****** him away.
Yet I don’t…. Cause if this was love
Why does it feel so unrequited?
And I won’t be fooled into seeking someone who isn’t mine alone.
But I still think of him and the weight he continuous to put on my heart ...though we no longer are connected.