post-orgasm boys remind me
of you, with their buttery smell
and soft-blinking eyelids
when their breath feels like
mariposas brushing against
my cheeks and shoulders
the way they wrap their fingers
around my ankles, having
nothing else to say
and though they do not have
your hips or your arms.
i can still find tender flesh
in between their ribs or above
their clavicles and push
my fingers through them -
and like you, they whisper:
p-p-please, p-pretty
darling, it hurts
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