i licked my drippy chocolate sundae from my cone and stared at the polluted boy sitting with his arms crossed. he was three months older than me but i was a lifetime better than him. i think. he had thick hair and goosebumps on his arms and his irises didn't look away as i caught him staring.
henry. his name decayed on my tongue but i liked the toxicity; maybe he was adonis or maybe he was his mirror. he reads archaic poetry but he felt like splinters in your fingers; the ones you ripped off harshly only to have blood peeking from the surface. he was putrescent and if his eyes were the windows to his soul, i would smash them.
