This poem is called Boys are Curious.
Because that's what you told me that day.
And if boys are curious,
My body is a treasure map.
I was an atlas for trespassers.
I had a horizon of hope in these eyes,
And my forest hid lust & mystery like it wanted to be found.
My acreage was pure and undiscovered.
If I hadn't scared you away yet,
I've heard that there was passion locked somewhere.
But because boys are curious,
My edges are creased and torn.
The sun has left me shaking in the cold.
I have been sought by the hands of greed enough times,
I've forgotten where I've hidden my treasure.
So, boys are curious.
He left me a field landmines.
Nov 27, 2014
Nov 27, 2014 at 1:09 AM UTC
This poem is called Boys are Curious.
Because that's what you told me that day.
And if boys are curious,
My body is a treasure map.
I was an atlas for trespassers.
I had a horizon of hope in these eyes,
And my forest hid lust & mystery like it wanted to be found.
My acreage was pure and undiscovered.
If I hadn't scared you away yet,
I've heard that there was passion locked somewhere.
But because boys are curious,
My edges are creased and torn.
The sun has left me shaking in the cold.
I have been sought by the hands of greed enough times,
I've forgotten where I've hidden my treasure.
So, boys are curious.
He left me a field landmines.
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