To Be Completely Honest


The stars wheel over you,
summer’s roster of constellations
dance away the night…

And you only have eyes
for cracks in the sidewalk,
wishing for an eraser
staunch enough
to obliterate the last hour,
but you
fucked a guy permanently into your
personal story.
He has his own page
where he is basking
in the kind of
sexual acts
you had only performed
in love, but
tonight they’re moldy,
spread across his living room
over chairs
atop tables
on the edge
of a sunken couch
your knees riveted to that
scratchy green carpet
where you’re
seven inches away from
believing this is intimacy.
You risked the sting
of his cum in
your eye to espy
the bedroom
and you dream like
lovers do.




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