There's this sweet boy who lives in my mind and blows assurances in my ear, cupping my head in his hands, and doesn't fear the consequences of trust.
A boy silent as a philosopher who thinks nothing of being candid and is not afraid to let my kisses touch him.
A boy who dreams my dreams, fighting on my side, who understands triumph over a dead eyed world.
He's lonely inside himself and happier for it and teetering along a fence between sanity and...
But his genius is my moaning and my inspiration and he likes to read the letters of even my most usual words.
He goes with everything and his eyes only wander to observe beauty and never stay long enough to desire.
If he sometimes wears my dress and I his tie, we survive and give it scant notice because he would not look at me up or down, but stares into my eyes and his irises, flexing, say that I am his Artemis.
We're together when it rains and when the sun comes out we chase each other into the shadows fearful that the insincerity of beauty may find us.
We won't buy tombstones and matching rocking chairs but dissolve slowly into each other and stand a hermaphroditic statue under a bridge, eyes on the tidal motion of a world.
We will feed each others' love and betray everything else, me and this sweet boy who lives in my mind.