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My heart blistered as you peeled away the layers which were supposed to protect me, but it's my fault anyway, dear, because you were the sun and I stared at you for too long and now everyone sees the burn you left on my skin.
Proof of kiss is in the smell of you on my green sheets.

Proof of kiss is in how my stomach still turns with that weird mixture of unsettled nervousness and even less settled lust.

Proof of kiss is in how my lips are still red and(more)
It would be cliche if I said it was magical, but it wasn't. It would be cliche if I could say your fingers had been sure and smart and deft. It would be cliche if I could say I'd whispered the right things in your ear and against your(more)
We moved fast together, fast like mercury. Like the silver fluid that beads up and shimmers and slides and seeped under my skin like poison that I knew all along would kill me, but I wanted it anyway because it was beautiful while it lasted, and wouldn't I rather(more)
They say you're not a pretty boy, but they haven't seen you when you write. They haven't seen your blonde eyelashes lit by the slotted sunlight coming through my blinds. They haven't seen words swirling in your eyes and in your thoughts and, eventually, on the page. They haven't(more)
The waves of inferiority come in like a storm surge and fade like a whisper and I'm left breathless and half drowning because I'm paralyzed, paralyzed to move, paralyzed to act, paralyzed to take any risk at all, useless to do anything but think of how terrified I am(more)
The blood
In my veins
Doesn't move,
Not since you left,
Not anymore.
He was ahead of his time, they'll say, when I'm a real artist - or maybe when I'm dead. He saw what we didn't. He knew. That's what they'll say when they think of me. That's when they'll realize they were wrong about me for all those years of(more)