10/30

Your pain is
palpable
rising off of you 
like
heat waves off of the 
bubbling pavement
of a hot desert road

a mirage
something you have 
worshiped
now revealing its 
true intent

to pull your achingly
yearning
young
heart 
from its not so 
well defended
crib between your ribs

and squeeze it to a 
pulpy mess

your boiling blood 
drips
from his long 

(once entwined in your hair; 
wrapped around the small of your back;
dipped into crevice of pleasure)

fingers
down his beautifully 
shaped forearms
to pool in the sand
beneath his feet

Young hearts, run free