double-digit
double-dutch
in the courtyard,
wild berry fence
and your bloody nail.
you're situated sitting
on saturn, twisting
with pluto and
waltzing with sirius.
you're my 90's cherry;
crushed and oozing,
seed falling in reverse
of my heart, do you
feel me?
sit with me on these
blizzard sheets,
sipping on your
trigger and warmth,
hair doubled in dutch
braids and bantu swirls
on the scalp that parts in
parallel portions.
sick of ones own body,
changing in front of me,
your emotions blend and
twist inside this full void.
wandering streets through
daytime, sleeping with
ice-cold through your banters.
bazooka and bubble blows,
gameboy and reset on the day
that makes 'eternal' feel
limited.
it wasn't until sixteen
when you said the braids
were baby like, you painted
flesh in deep blood and
watermelon scented memories,
deep curtain dresses and
jeweled heels.
freckles in my gap,
dozing off in clear
paths, right beside
this new 'you.'
I was behind you,
hector.
