Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful boy.
I like your cheekbones. How they are carved from clay. The red brown clay of your skin. And your deep black hair. You know how it shines like silk. You're warm and tall and full of muscle. Sometimes when you smile just the right way, the crooked way, I want to cry. Because I love you. I love you when I don't even believe in love. But I am always irrational. I want to claim you. I want to keep you so you can always keep me from falling into a thousand pieces. You are my best friend. I want to hold and hold and hold and never let go. I want to always inhale how you smell like the earth and the ocean. And how you smell like sweet hookah and the time of the world. I can't lose you today.
1 comment:
I like "But I am always irrational. I want to claim you. I want to keep you so you can always keep me from falling into a thousand pieces." Very well said. Perhaps this will evolve into something more rational but in the throes of psychic pain, I find it useful to conjure the last guy I felt this way about. Made it possible for me to consider that there would be others if there wasn't a fairy tale ending to the current beautiful boy.
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