So we took a bus instead
and the passengers in
all their grungy filth
watched, disinterested, as we flirted
up and down the side of the windows
and our salty lips
spraying wild graffiti inside our mouths
broke apart only
to surface for breath
And I remember
running my hand down your chest
through your plaid button-up
shirt, lost and confused in our
small interim
and I remember your pressing
hands against my body
and thought
you really are a man.
Very, very vivid image.
God, I’m glad that never happened
and the queasy feeling I got in my stomach
when I saw you is still there
but more importantly
I’m glad you remain a secret
a mine waiting to be exploited
and perhaps you have been
but not by my hands and my knives
and my pick axes, so go on
and be someone else’s boy
I don’t care
it doesn’t hurt
I am so glad you italicised the differnt parts. Otherwise, this would make little sense. As it is, it sounds longing, and in conjuction with the last stanza.. it's good. "A secret a mine waiting to be exploited" do you mean of, not a? good line, though. And the following line are almost cold, but that gives way to vunerability in the last line and the last stanza.
Only, you know, very early
in the morning or right before
a major storm or
whenever you won’t look me in the eye.
chilling, (but as I said before, vunerable). good job, as always.
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