"Do I love him?"
The awkward question
For bad lipped smitten boys
Racing like go carts on their tongues
In too tight tops, funeral wear,
Black and more black possibly a hint of rose
He gives you the petals
And you wilt and crumble staring at his hair
of letting him near the head he throws
Back in cautious giggles, somehow
You peel back his outer skin
And all you see is crystals
Clear and iridescent, it sparkles
You hadn't met a boy who had sparkled
Quite like him before
A man of glass, a greenhouse with
Plenty of precious stones to throw
You trace the line of his jaw like that of granite
You map out the hazy glints of his eyes with stars
He arches his neck up to face the sun
They do not look away
They were both too pretty to do that.
He went home at lunchtime that day.
Thinking about you.
YOU ARE READING
What He Told Me. Poetry
PuisiI was told to share what I write by a guy. This is what I've done. Some of this is dark. Some of this is the inner workings of what is happening in my life. Im sorry for making you read this
