Question

Fleating moments


What made him so different?
How could he manage to touch me when I would pull away from even the arms of my mother?
How can this boy make me feel safe enough to take off my shirt and put my lips on his?

Why am I not fearful of the hands that hold mine.

Why was it him who I finally loved.

A boy who could never give me anything but a moment of affection, for the moment footsteps where heard his warmth ripped away from me.
The boy who taught himself to hide the part of him that couldn't be suppressed.

For the hatred of people have taught this boy everything he knows.

He looks at me with pity...with guilt.
I say it's fine yet I watch him hold a girl's hand and the sin of jealousy overtakes my heart.

But how can I be maddened when this was the fate I chose

"We can't keep doing this" he whispers once our clothes are both back on.
I feel my eyes burn with tears but I look away.

He is vulnerable, tears stream down his face.

I did not meet him in the middle

I showed no emotion as I stare at him, he asks me if I'm sad too.

"I don't really care"

That was the last time I felt touch.

Maybe if that night I ripped away from the roots that grounded me to fear. Maybe if that night I told him how much I liked him.

If I told him I loved him.

Yet it was a boy trapped in a closet.

Who could only give me fleating moments of affection
Who hands stayed in mine but only when it was dark.
Who held me tight only behind closed doors.

I can't help but blame myself.
For I was not much different then him.

For I have always been more mature

Yet its me who fell for a boy who molded himself for society.

But of course

One Bible verse is worth more then two young boys hearts.

Answer 1

W

Answer 2

This is so good