PIEL DE MIEL

boys are so pretty when they cry

his hips carve into the silk of my sheets, undulating like the waves outside our window that sing to the moon. his mama gave us a bottle of the help that tasted how his lips look, he told her to stop embarrassing him but she said that we needed to be safe or else we'd end up like her. she didn't tell his dad, just said that he'd be going to drown at the beach while i watched from the window of the motel that had fruit flies buzzing 'round my ears. but really, what his mom failed to recognize was that her son wanted to be drowned. well, kinda. he just wanted that feeling, you know? he said he wanted to know how it felt to be drowning in something that wasn't meant to be breathed. that's why he asked me to wrap a hand around his throat, i think. as i was pressing my palms against his bruised knees (he asked me to kiss them because he doesn't want his mama to see how much he loves me) he grabbed them and placed them so that my nails were biting into his throat. i want this, he said, and i knew he was being sincere because i could swear that i heard the palm trees gasping at his wide eyes.

how did he know that i wanted it, too?