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1. The beautiful boy and I meet at the rose garden again today.
2. Under the peach tree, he instantly captures my lips. And I am u n d o n e. He kisses the bruises under my eyes, gently presses his palms onto my quaking knees. Do you want this? he whispers breathlessly into my ear as he brushes his fingertips across the curve of my hipbone, my words are caught between my swollen, rotten lungs and I can only respond with a shaky nod.
3. If somewhere out there, there are angels singing, I hope they are singing about us, I hope they sing about the blood roaring in my veins and the way he gasps out my name when I press my teeth to his neck. I hope they sing about the place where are thighs meet and where our hips collide--and where our shivering, aching bodies melt into flames of ruin.
