the summer sun touches me
and it’s an uncomfortable sort of heat
desire dissolves on my tongue
down my throat
i’m on my back
two doves and a small white plane
fly above me
in a big blue sky
we are too young to burn like this
to know him is
an uncomfortable sort of feeling
in this world there’s so many strangers
they can’t possibly all be this soft
this deep
this compelling
in the discomfort, i grab my own face
shake her shoulders
and ask:
“are you going to love, or to run?”
“swallow the heat
puncture him with your thumbs
peel back the skin
and sink your teeth into the cold sweet flesh of him
let the juice drip
down your throat
and flow down your arms
seep into the cracks of his palms
the heart line, the life line.”
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