On Discovering The Downsides of Fidelity

you like to drink and dance
and fuck good-looking boys,
your thighs white and smooth
cracked open like eggshells.

when I first saw you, you were all knees
and jangled wrists
(and I don't know whether I imagined it
or whether there was a firstlookfirstlookaway/
secondlookfirstblush situation or not)
but a part of me wanted to tell you
how I adored you;
whilst the other part wanted to cover your mouth
with my own
and kiss you over and over until my lips
were fat with it.

I would promise you that this wasn't just about fucking
and the redness of your hair


(and I swear that I would mean it, just as long as I had you
pressed against those sticky walls.)