there’s a boy I love,
the boy doesn’t speak,
the boy is pale, a body full of bones.
his **** limp
his eyes, weeping
his form, skeletal and twined.
i want to dissolve him into body wash,
clean my body with his.
there’s a boy,
a touch of 25 to his grace.
the boy kisses like he’s carving gold into cement.
he makes art out of willowing branches of thighs,
out of dove-necked wrists,
out of a sloped, vining neck.
there’s a boy,
mute; but as loud as roaring packs of waves.
there’s a boy i love,
even when i swore love was what I was most afraid of.
Aug 31, 2017
Aug 31, 2017 at 9:09 PM UTC
there’s a boy I love,
the boy doesn’t speak,
the boy is pale, a body full of bones.
his **** limp
his eyes, weeping
his form, skeletal and twined.
i want to dissolve him into body wash,
clean my body with his.
there’s a boy,
a touch of 25 to his grace.
the boy kisses like he’s carving gold into cement.
he makes art out of willowing branches of thighs,
out of dove-necked wrists,
out of a sloped, vining neck.
there’s a boy,
mute; but as loud as roaring packs of waves.
there’s a boy i love,
even when i swore love was what I was most afraid of.
