pinkantennas

His bones

—so angular and sharp—

pricked my thumbs,

and the fleshy dimples between his stomach and pelvis

cradled my calloused palms;

His curious fingers threaded their way down my back

before tying around my waist

in a grip of their own.

We held each other all night on that moonlit trampoline,

our bodies pressing into each other’s voids,

   while wine dripped from plastic cups

and fell through the perforated canvas,

landing on the dew encrusted lawn.

He didn’t taste like alcohol

        even though he was really drunk

—he said fervently the next morning—

He just tasted fulfilling.

I’d never been so infatuated.

But calendars filled with his absence,

and our paralleled passion dissipated

with each story of his promiscuity—

—suave proposals

to anyone easy.

And I came to realize I was more attracted to the memory of our symmetry

than the possibility of continuation

Because despite being the first boy he’d ever been

fully attracted to

I was still no match for more accessible, attractive

girls.

formatting is off but I don’t care enough to fix it atm. This is what it’s supposed to look like:

lady-starkiller:

when you’re so sleep-deprived that you don’t even feel tired anymore