he's a boy i met in a dream,
but i still see him every time i need
a temporary escape from reality.
eyes hazel, arms full of tattoos,
lips bitten raw, chest so smooth,
his hair a black uneven mess too.
somewhere in the states or the west of europe,
in a city stuck on fast-forward,
a flat with a balcony and a friend is his home.
his winters are for movie nights and snow,
warm kisses, trees, missing what was once a home,
despite how many years passed and how he moved on.
his autumns are for parties in masks,
for new friends and one-night stands,
for seasonal sadness and starting over again.
his summers are for remembering why
he had to leave without saying goodbyes,
take nothing with him but a flag and pride.
his springs are for being strong,
walking shirtless in the cold, looking at mirrors,
breaking limits, enjoying endless freedom.
he's a boy i met in a dream i had while i was awake and broken,
when everything was slipping from between my fingers like water,
and i desperately needed something to look forward to,
a future to hope for and hold onto.
(and it's so fucked up,
to be a boy in a dream,
but i hope when i wake up,
he becomes real.)
-
unedited n wow. this book's over. n this poem's abt urs truly (the zh is pronounced like j ok im white) xx
YOU ARE READING
BOYS
Poesiaa collection of poems in which you meet twenty-six boys and read their stories from the perspective of twenty-six other boys. you've met most of them before, in reality, outside these pages. and you've seen some of their faces in the street. and you...
