When I met you,
it was like a child first meeting
the ocean, breathing in the strong
smell of salt and water
and instantly loving it.

I breathed your smell
of deodorant, laundry soap, and
masculinity;
an all too familiar smell of boy.
It gathered in my lungs and never left.

With every in-sync breath
we took, I felt the wall
I worked so hard to put up
crumbling little by little.
The skin of the person
I worked so hard to be
slowly shedding away.

The sky became a shadow
and the smell of lavender and petrichor
amidst the humidity kept me calm
like the whoosh and crash of the ocean.
A whisper playing at your lips and
with a shake of your hair, they fell.
Your words were a cold shock
as they met my ears.

I exhaled;
you exhaled.
The wall fell to pieces.
(Boy, I fell.)

And we became once upon a time kind of boys
who believed in forbidden love.
We lived life beneath shadows, danced behind
closet doors to our own kind of music.
(The beat of our hearts and the sound of
two boys catching their breaths.)
I wanted every part of you on me,
your smell and sweat between my bones.

We were once upon a time kind of boys.
I was scared of what I became, something
I never wanted to be. I feared of what would happen
if people found out that I loved you.
We would be bodies thrown against the pavement,
heads hitting concrete,
shouts and threats drowning out everything else.

Nobody likes two once upon a time kind of boys
with bright eyes and a need for each other.

*

6.13.10