The Boys you will Meet in Hell

I.

Now when I see you I can almost feel your hipbones.

My hands almost touching,

because yes

you were really that skinny. 

You were an 

ivory fragility

that I have always desired. 

And though bone structure is genetic-

the people who you chose to f**k 

are not.

And maybe that is 

why 

I have always chosen boys that were

far smaller than me.

Yes, you were all ice. 

From the cold blue eyes

that held much passion 

(if not anger) 

to your skin, porcelain and fragile

as a china plate

that has never been taken out. 

Maybe because you were too cold.

Maybe because the girl you always 

chose

was not a fancy enough occasion.

II.

But you were so sure

of every move you made, 

you moved so swift and stern;

you were a natural born leader. 

I laid on your collarbones

one night 

and stroked your arm, hard with muscle, 

as you talked about your family

and how you never wanted to be your dad. 

What you fail to realize

is that you are more kin than kind. 

And sleeping with me 

while you love someone else

is the highest similarity you could ever share. 

(I almost called you Jason)

But kissing you was slow,

thoughtful even.

Kissing you wasn't hard or fast. 

I didn't have to wipe spit from my mouth

or push you off of me.

But kissing you did not make my fly.

I was much too afraid to open my eyes. 

I always wondered if you replaced my face

with hers. 

If you hoped to find blue eyes 

instead of brown.

If you always touched my a*s,

because you hoped that it would be bigger

like her's.

I wondered if you never used tongue 

because I wouldn't know how to 

dance with it like she did. 

If you never spoke

when we had sex

because you might have called me 

her name. 

I know you were just horny. 

But you are the most beautiful thing 

that has ever touched me, 

and I never thought you to be someone else.