boot

baby…the only thing that makes me cum is the thought of butch arms holding my hips down as denim crotches grind together and the only dream that lulls me to sleep is that of shoulders as broad as my own, resting sturdy against me

i have this memory, of an open window in the winter rain. coastal winds rattling the panes (pains) at midnight. this new bedroom has an opening to the neighbouring roof, and i consider going for a swim in the ocean of scarlet cement.

i stop myself at the thought of your legs, stitched into the tapestry of my bedsheets. how they’d surely unwind if i stepped over you to reach the latch behind.

i counted in my head, the nights we had left to ever go out there together. to look up at the stars, their tears streaming down our cheeks because they have none to cry on.

i can’t recall if you had actually been with me that storm, or if i’d just dreamed of you all night, that even in the haze between consciousness, it was not the wind blowing the house down, but your arms,

that rocked me back and forth