Midnight in Michigan:

the heat of July spills through

my open bedroom windows

breeze billows my white linen curtains.


You and I lay sweat-drenched

on pink silk sheets

my mother purchased because

she wants to feel rich.


We won’t say “I love you”

not tonight

maybe not ever,

but we both know how we feel.


I see you in the darkness

hiding behind scared hazel eyes.

My Adonis,

so temporary and eternal

we are not spoken for

but in this moment, I live for you.








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