It's you and me,
sitting on my bed,
I know nothing of intimacy.
You're staring with eyes so blue,
and I'm shaking,
scared of what your hands might do.
Holding me tightly,
your hand on my thigh,
turning brightly,
red like your shirt on the floor.
To see you like this,
I'll miss you walking out the door,
a secret kept between these four walls,
our world, in my bedroom.
It's you and me,
pull me under your sheets,
we play so comfortably.
Hours go by,
I still want your hands all over me;
you're my favorite high.
Brown haired boy,
your eyes won't melt me,
I know what I enjoy,
your hands only,
to hold me,
I won't tolerate a phony.
And you don't want a secret,
your hand holding mine,
that's our world -- undefined.
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About the Creator
Derek Evers
Hello! I'm Derek, a writer based in Portland, OR. Author of short stories, poetry, and blog posts about the things that interest me. Be kind to yourself and others, always.
IG: deverswriting
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