I want to write about how kissing him
felt like buying cheap leather gloves
with grimy dollars I found
in gas station parking lots

and how his hands on me
felt damp in a way yours never did

felt like rain
but without the gentle release

and how his fire burned my flesh
heavy with vacant flame
but left untouched
the wildfires in my palms
the ones you used to kiss
goodnight

and it all felt like something stolen
something sold
something sad in soft light

and I want to write about
how I lost myself in his famished hips
and it felt good
in the same way it feels good
to lobotomize with the rising sun
cut light from horizon
cut stars from orbit

cut year-long chains
gravity, off the rails
of night
spilling with the times
we shared swaying breaths
in the dark of your bedroom

and I want to write about
how it felt to wake up so abandoned
when I fell asleep
with your voice in my bones
and his mouth on my neck
how it is so strange
to be lonely
without ever being alone

to have nothing binding me to us
my midnights are in the pockets of
other boys’ jeans and the trail of smoke
leads me where
you never dropped a match

and kissing him was new
and kissing him was different
and kissing him felt like buying
cheap leather gloves
with grimy dollars I found
in gas station parking lots
and I want to write about all of these things

but every time I try
the words burn up
the rain gets stuck
and the smoke takes the shape
of regret
and it all smells like
you