a boy, in my bed – 9/21/2020
i write this for you, who may be wondering why despite the hours settled in the sheets of my bed, you left with nothing but the conversations we shared playing back in your head. you see, intimacy is more than skin–it’s the exchange of breath, the sighs, the creaks of the springs as i turn to laugh, to smile, shy eyes drifting to the glow of the moon. what i desire is more than what is written, what is sung on the radio, what my fingers plunge and demand for as i lay in my bed. yes, i am a being of passion, of dewy inner thighs and high-pitched moans but as i’ve gotten older, i’ve begun to realize that there’s more to finding my way than fucking and crying. i want the simplicity, never the complex. i just want to have a conversation with a boy, in my bed.