12.
I let Elliot wrap me up,
in faded quits, whispered words
and layers of soft
kisses.
Don't go back there,
she says.
Please, don't.
I want to tell her no,
that I am brave,
will face
the dark halls again.
But just the smell
of various shampoos
and aftershave, his aftershave,
makes my nerves electrify –
not the way Elliot does,
how her touch sends sparks,
inviting life.
This electricity burns me.
YOU ARE READING
Bloom, Shifting
诗歌Elliot. The name sits on my tongue, melting as if it were sugar. Elliot. I hold that sweet name in my mouth all the way home, mouthing it to the darkness. She moves to the city to learn how to write. She trades redwoods for skyscrapers and...
