As we laze around on the floor of Holly's room, she grips my hand and clutches it tightly. Wooden objects felt chilly to the touch—molen wax pools beneath the white-lit table candle. Even the fluttering of my stomach can't compete with the brightness of the lights. After Holly reached puberty, her mom let her put a lock on her bedroom door. The white paint has worn away from the thick lock, showing me that she used it frequently, probably often enough to jot down notes.
Holly steals a glimpse of my sleepy cat eyes. I vaguely recall resting on her bedroom floor while she affirmed her undying affection, and I pleaded with her to reveal even more of herself.
More than just a kiss and greater than any other factor.
Being a devout Catholic, Holly places a premium on chastity; however, she, like the rest of us, is human and makes mistakes.
That's not to say I'm interested in knowing.
The first sign is labored breathing,
then glanced stiffly up at the ceiling.
When our lips connect, an upheaval of elation and trepidation rotates
crimson smiles while kissing her sun-kissed skin.
The cherry lip gloss that Holly wears coats my tongue in luck.
The sound of my own breathing is disturbing,
When Holly puts her hand on my racing chest,
asking me to take a deep breath and relax in a gentle voice.
On my casket, I would like to see holly berries.
YOU ARE READING
The Lonely Position of Neutral
PoetryBen's throat cancer has returned. Living a lonely life, he found a woman he loves but finds out she's been unfaithful. Ben starts to think the lonely position of neutral isn't that bad. He writes poems and dialogue narratives. Will Ben survive cance...
