i spent my days with a boy named earl
in the white gazebo
by the river-
fixing the water guns that families had long thrown out,
our august days spent drowning each other.
he would toss my body into the river until i learned how to fly,
and when i was completely drenched
we walked up the driveway
our feet burning at the slightest touch of the pavement,
our toes intertwined with blades of
grass
until we came to a strangers basketball hoop and shoved on our dirty sneakers
screaming
speaking another language
scrambling spare change for blue raspberry slushees at the nearest seven- eleven
letting go of the handlebars of our bicycles while going downhill
until he crashed
he crashed
and to this day he is the ugliest boy you might ever see.
his lips are still swollen,
his jaw uneven
his eyes are purple,
his once slender frame broken
but his hands taste like childhood
so he
is the prettiest boy to me
YOU ARE READING
horribly beautiful ✔️
Poetrypeople write about things that do not happen. they will romanticize this world in hopes of filling themselves up. they write like their words are food. but i have always written to empty myself completely. i will romanticize feeling nothing. jun...
