Nothing has been touched
for authenticity. The dirt,
their lives scattered across
this makeshift romance;
beds easily pushed apart,
bodies indent just like hearts
living for incognito weekends
away from friends, parents,
a life of false starts, pretence.
They notice only sanctuary,
a door shutting out the world
erasing borders, boundaries.
This is their chance, two boys
hushed with possibility, need,
bodies augment just like hearts
bleed into each other and mend
history. The boys pass through leaving
only the evidence of a memory.
