Just for a moment

you caress my face, and yet --


it lasts a long time.

an inspector who tracks every move
every move i take—a reward or a crime
whether i watch a movie or series that mirrors my past
or a drift through a day where nothing feels wrong
or sleep soundly through the forgiving night---
his eyes, like a cctv, never sleeps

but when i slip, when I commit a sin…
he interrogates me, “why did you do it?”
and there, in a grey, unblinking light
i stand arrested by my own intent
it’s like a serial killer replacing the skin of myself
he acts without care, so i'm caught red-handed

Dear Bosco?
'I know not why I feel warmth with your
presence, I know not why I feel breeze on my face with no wind present'.
An improvisational line to woo, I suppose?
But without intention, if I were to swear on it I would,
something of my subconscious?

With the future's eye I could see why those lines formed the way they
did (The warmth was from the alcohol
but the tension was sharper than your teeth
scraping my tongue)
I told you about it, my mind knows me more than I know it,
to the point of punishing me for unknown wrongs in dreams,
it must have known you before your lips knew me.

I told you I was afraid to be myself,
but I swear on my dead body I was nothing
If not my whole self,
though subdued through sleepiness, I rather
would want to get swathed
and swayed with your warming flesh.

I could’ve sworn I died in your arms this beyond late
night,
But with your tender lips it rejuvenated life at the same
time, 'I know not why'

Did I clumsily forget to mention the errors in my thoughts?
Your mind surely should have told you.

You asked me what I was thinking while I avoided the
deathly gaze in your eyes,
I said, 'of us', to things of that nature.
I asked the same, you said of nothing, just of us now.
Are you here with me? Are you?

You cheeky doll.
A mint before commitment, a premeditated attack, an
ambush.
Though not of undesirability, an ambush still.
Forcing my hands to touch yours while we sat in tender voices,
nature, pool, city, and the wandering fellow, observing
My nature against yours, yours against mine.

Talking hopefully useful information to invest in, for
Future reference right? (I hope she is not testing me)
Exchanging hopefully meaningful gifts, a promise pick, and a
reference from me to your favourite love song, lollipops and crisps.
Oh, how I wish for it to remain a love song.

You talk of my band and I talk of your films,
'Just make like -- 3 songs, and the rest can be covers',
A ****** camera or a good one;
You preferred ******, it adds more character apparently, I say
It's cute.
The greatest pretentious exchange of art kids
Ever.

A brush on the shoulders, our minds' leaves caressing each
other,
A bold grab of our teasing hands with your notion,
You tuck my hair behind my ears and I get shy as I for one
hide my face with it,
I ask, why?
'I just want to see you'.

(Do you really want to see me? Me
with all of my faults, do you want to unravel me naked?
Do you want to see me ****?
Stripped off all my accessories that hide my paling ****** soft skin?
The soft '******' skin that is still scarred)

You close your eyes and with your lead I shall do no
harm,
The lips entertaining, the tongues befriending,
the passing of saliva,
(Does she not know I have a sore throat now, all exchanges
must have forbearance and reception)

With that exchange for 4 days, I've known her 4 years,
never have I felt intimacy to that degree.

Breathe in, breathe out,
In, and out,
Take me in, and take me out,
keep me in,
Let me kiss you quicker so you won't see
my face.

Your lips,
they hold me everywhere else on my face, (why does she not care of
its dreading spots)
nose, cheek, forehead, they appreciate you more than me,
I ****** on your fingers, must've been my
subconscious,
outwardly showing you my need from reciprocation,
and you learn fast as you send nerve signals I couldn't
have possibly ever perceive with touch like yours.

(Have I imagined her?
My subconscious torturing me once more,
conjuring the facsimile of my desires,
and punishing me with making you hold me)
They would not understand you
like I do,
till' they witness your might.

Take charge, take seize, but
hold,
Let me,
Let my teeth grab your neck
Let my hand touch yours
Let my fingers linger on your palm,
Let my soul erupt in your mouth,
Let me pin you on the railing, bear your hips,
Let me adore you

I wish I could've stayed, and I wished
you wished the same;
The short euphoria I experienced I needed, and I crave you
more now.

I could've sworn our bodies were one of itself in our last
draws of breaths
If you breathe mine in I will do the same
If I call you by my name You will do the same. (I hope
she calls no other
by hers)

With your malicious eyes, fuzzy brows, flaming
hair that hell cannot explain,
menthol lips,
With your uttered words: 'You poor boy',
You've made a lover of me,
An acceptor of me,
The talker of me,
The writer of me,
The dreamer of me,
A father of me,
The worrier of me,
The lover of me

'What would be the name of our movie be called?' I asked
as if I had not fantasised of asking you
a few days prior.
I hope you mean it, because like it or not, you've attached
this song to me as much as I've been attached to you,
(The cheeky girl played it before our reciprocal breaths)

And now here I am,
sad and craving,
in your absence.
I truly wish you meant what you said,
I truly wish you understood my heart when you
said it was beating so fast.

I must not suppress my emotions,
as Elio's dad says: 'To make yourself feel nothing
so as to not feel anything -- what a waste!';
So I will follow his advice as I've told you my
Father is but a *******,
My emotions are unsurpassed, unraveled,
For you,
These emotions I will never feel again, they
change, evolve, devolve, degrade, falter,
So I must recite it to my heart's will as you
know it beats fast for you.

I needed to write this to me, from you,
'Else I would be holding me hostage choking the remnants of
memories of you. I smile as I feel this grief.

I will not deny you, I will not deny me.
I will not deny your jaw,
teeth, flavour, hips, smell, eyes, brows, hips, breath
voice, passion, initiative, stories, mind,
love.
I will not deny my shivering jaw, my
sunken brows,
my aching belly,
my strained throat,
my dulling eyes,
my tricky mind,
my yearn, my
love.

So be it, I'll wait.
As our song states, True Love Waits.
The haunting echoes of his voice breaks me,
Do you love the song more than ever?
More importantly, do you believe in the song as you say it
is your favourite from the band? I
will play our song with your pick,
And I pray you learn it
with mine.

Whatever, I told you of the mess I am, or
maybe not (at the very least implicitly)
and I was just dreaming

This is not a closure, not acceptance, I will
go as you ebb.
Just, don't leave.
Don't,
Leave.

i was “born” without lungs
gasping for air
and while they grieved for me
i pushed air throughout my body.

june 20, 2024, 6pm.
you did the bare minimum
and i have been obsessed with you.
months. you, of all people.
and when i have told my friends they said
“him, of all people?”

april 29, 2025 and many days before that
my friends called me a *****.
that word is red and bold and ****** and italic and underlined and highlighted and- *****.
im 14.?
to all the mothers out there- god(?) bless your hearts,
how would you imagine
your daughter
a *****? (i know im not, but what am i if not society’s opinions?)

…November (?) 2021 until now (every moment every second of my waking and sleeping being)
i think about it.
i think about him.
he should be in jail
and he probably has a girlfriend
a wife
kids
by now.
i’ll never forget what that “man” ( if you can even call him that ) did to me
and i wonder if i told my friends
*****-callers!
what he did to me
i wonder what their faces would say
i want to see them shocked and cry and apologize for calling me a ***** (because i am not a ******* *****!!)

…the things which i held in my palm
as a young child (was i a ***** then, did i come out of the womb “asking for it?”)
always seemed so large
but they are specks of sparkling stardust in my hands now
they seem so small. (were they always?)

I AM SICK AND TIRED (only a ***** would be tired) OF EVERYONE ELSE GETTING WHATEVER THE **** THEY WANT BECAUSE EVERYONE ELSE HAS DETERMINED THAT THEY DESERVE THAT.
i wonder how many of our lives are determined by how others think of us
i wonder how many of us are others
society is not a singular being but something that is inside all of us
we are all society
(so you can all be ****** too.)
(or maybe just me.)
(just me.)
(me.)
-

-a something-year-old *****.

Every day, the fatigue that plagues my body gets closer to my brain. And, I can't help but wonder. When it gets there, will everything I've worked for be in vain? No! I can't think like that. Not when I'm so close to my dreams. But how can you fight exhaustion when everything exhausts you?

Your body will be grateful for every healthy choice you make today.

If I never get to be as beautiful
as all the pretty girls around me,
at least let me be

the scattered breeze ruffling your skin,
the scattered wind carrying whispers from the mountains,
the scattered sunlight illuminating cracked walls.

If I never get to be as graceful
as all the eloquent girls around me,
at least let me be

scattered like desert sand
all over your landscape.
At least let me be

scattered like drops of water
coloring the morning leaves.

Scatter my ashes, aghast, into ocean water,
because—

if I am never pretty enough for you,
at least let me be...
at least let me be,

who I am in reality:
a scattered mosaic
with missing pieces....

Nobody or nothing
Can convince me
That nothing
                   In it's self
                   Contains nothing
We’re just too small
              Too limited
              To see all that surrounds
                                        From within our body

All this life sought
Was in my feet forward,
Backing into stumble on rocks
With no path, life is an S curve

It hurts to fall hard
Worse yet
Is to not know why
I walked at all

A cool spring morning
In the rain with my canine on lead
Rushes into the glade
Where a doe may rest unaware

Still at old age I know, nothing
Every morning in the dark
My eyes open, for what?
I have lost all meaning of why

Are the next rising suns
Teachers on the green that
Remain after the snow melts
A reason for standing up?

I lost track of my dog in the meadow
As I listen to a poet who says
That tomatoes do not bleed
Is my life a fruit I can eat

Through the spring branches
I see a home below, pale yellow
A white door and a pane of glass
Asking, will I come forward more

An unknown, will I care to find out
Where is the deer and my dog
The door seductively beckons,
Walk this way with strong shoulders

Every day is an opening
For planting new things
Or letting the past burn to ash
Stunned in body and bones my trips to the ground

The knees and hands ******
And worn, as the apple skin
Holds a hole from the worm
I am the fruit as much as the scar that shines, happening now