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Untitled This work has been published in the Teen Ink monthly print magazine.

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   Heated breath,

sticky fingers.

I don't want this,

not forever.

You can sit here,

lie on your back

but I just burn

here in your sun.

Up in this garage

where the window broke

the beams shaft through.

They melt you in

and peel me away.

We, so close we touch,

are grasping for something.

What, you don't know,

what, I don't dare.

The wooden floor

so hot it sweats

seems to support

this thing we have.

We never talk,

we only breath.

Somehow

it's enough.




This work has been published in the Teen Ink monthly print magazine. This piece has been published in Teen Ink’s monthly print magazine.






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