the long haired boy

The night of velvet and fractured glassbled on for months. Who neededsleep when you were on call fora fire department of a boy's body.The first night, sneaking through the garageriddled with mannequins and thepromise of panting glowing on his cheekbonesas he led me through the darkto the sheets, darker still-swimming with his smell.He touched me first. I shivered.He gripped my hands. I exhaled.My breathing struggled to synchitself back with my heart,the uneven pace of both in a relay race.Breathing and beating elbow each other,begging for first. Begging. Please.All at once, breathing made sense again.Fumbling turned to fluid for the firsttime in my sixteen years;a preview of nights to come,years after the house was sold andthe mannequins were dressed and undressedtime and time again.

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