I remember you.
Sweet, seventeen you
brand new scruffy beard
and black gym shorts
kissing me on the couch
when my parents weren't home.
Sweet, seventeen you
with those same bright eyes
and citric smile that stung the taste buds
on my tongue.
Sweet, seventeen you
drowned in sheer dumb luck and cheap Captain Morgan
(or whatever ***** it is you like to drink.)
Sweet, seventeen you
with callused hands, dirt stuck in the worry lines
and nails bit down to the bone.
Sweet, seventeen you
pushing my hair out of my face with those same ***** hands,
same reliant arms,
same crooked-tooth smile.
Sweet, seventeen you
with scared knuckles and a bare chest
just begging someone with the same youth
and vibrancy
to kiss it until the leather wore out
until the venom was ******
so you could stay sweet,
seventeen you
forever.

I love the way I fool you
into thinking I'd actually let you for one moment
step inside my bathtub while I was in the shower.
But even more than that,
I love the way I think of you
if you actually did come into my shower.
How lovely your wet skin would feel against mine.
How I'd like so very much to shampoo your curly hair.
How I'd like to tell you you're beautiful,
and how I'd kiss you quickly when you'd deny it.
How your kiss would feel against my neck
as little droplets poured down my skin like rain.
How your tongue would feel inside my mouth,
a steamy embrace that would taste just a little
bit like Dove soap and mint toothpaste.
How your fingers would feel entangling in my hair,
or how your chest would feel against my breast.
How the sound of the pressure hitting the curtain
would only stimulate the chemical reaction
happening in the limited space we allowed between our two bodies.
How we'd mold into one.
How much time we'd waste arguing about my singing,
even though deep down I agreed I was awful.
I just like to argue with you.
How I'd hypnotize you with my kiss to get you to comb my hair,
to rinse the conditioner out of it.
How slippery my fingers would be trying to trace your lips,
with you trying your best not to smile.
How many times you'd fail at trying to blow bubbles
with a bit of soap between your palms.
Or how many times I'd catch you staring at me
while you were getting lost in the sound of my laugh.
How when we saw the foggy mirrors you'd draw silly faces
while I drew baby hearts.
How you'd tell me I was stupid for believing in those fantasies,
and I'd just  laugh because I know bottomless inside you believe it in.
You believe in love.
You believe in our love.
You believe in loving me.
How when we were finished you'd try to sneak into my towel,
and I'd run away secretly begging you to catch me.
I'd run straight into the bedroom, taking a retreat up to the headboard,
and how you'd crawl up after me.
How instantly you'd wrap your arms around me, still naked
your wet lips breathing right into mine.
How my soaked hair would feel against your skin,
how it would chill you, and I'd smooth down the goose bumps like a game
Like a game I only play with you.
How it would only be you.
How I only ever want it to be you.

tonight I will bleed out the defintion between us
tonight I will leak like the ocean in between every grain of sand
tonight I will break my body in all the pieces

tommorow I will leave you
tommorow I will make every vertabra in your back shake
tommorow I will sweep you into my mind
and drench you out thinking about my sleepless night

yesterday I held you
yesterday I blushed when you came to kiss my cheek
yesterday I listened to your heart sing under your skin
yesterday I felt you in my stomach
yesterday you were my favorite song played by the ancestors
of all the greatest composers
yesterday you were the art of my life
and the cleanliness in my heart
yesterday I invisioned a picture of you and me
and a small soul between us, a painted mixture of you and I
yesterday you were the bone in my fingers
that helped me write soft things

now your the rapture in my heart
and the fire burning my wings