I climb into bed with her
The softness of her breath on my skin
Raising every hair on my body
Match myself to her
Thigh against thigh,
Arm against arm
Her dark red hair exploding like an exit wound against my shoulder.
Hours earlier she began to speak
slowly at first, then faster
I thought she would run out of words
I should record her
And put her on repeat in my headphones
Now we rest, blue light from the window breaking across her face
Eyes closed
I hold her, surprisingly still
The only thing moving, her heartbeat
One that leaps and bounds for joy
The one she fed into my palms
As she gave herself to me
YOU ARE READING
gas station flowers
Poetrycoming of age poetry by a queer young adult writer. navigating relationships and the coming out process. peak inside the mind of a young woman with a mental illness.
