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It's too late to call you now, friend.
You're probably just pulling off
the road and checking into
some motel with a vintage
sign glowing neon in East Texas.
The truth is, boy, that
I wouldn't know what to
say if I could get a hold of you
on the phone in my current state
because the last time I saw you,
it was raining in bucketfuls of
liquid pearls and your
mother was waving goodbye on the porch,
as though you were going off to war and
it'd be the last time
she would see your hazelnut eyes
shining and that dopey grin.

Boy, I needed to say a lot of things;
half-truths and metaphors
that I'd swallowed earlier
over a cold breakfast of
orange juice and dry wheat thins
but it all got stuck there in
my desert throat like a pebble
at the bottom of a blue-pink jar.
And you smiled like
you already knew,
hugged me fiercely before climbing
into your truck
and driving off under
a sheen of plastic grey heaven.

Tonight I picture you
lying on a bed with a striped coverlet,
reading Heart of Darkness and ignoring
the bible in the drawer of the pine desk.
Los Lobos might be playing on the radio
and my face probably
never crosses your mind like
a shooting star across
a newspaper firmament.

Boy, why is it so hard sometimes?
I miss you so much, I can't stand
this stereotypical wind
tearing at my clothes
and ruffling my hair
in a way that makes me
wish you were here.
Remember how we used to agree on
music all the time
but fight over important things
like whether or not
it's alright for boys to whisper
"I love you" when
nobody's around to judge?
I can't say I understand this
but why am I always
the one running off?

It's too late now.
These weekend highways don't
care that I lost you,
even when I wasn't aware of
my own heart beating
acid and Indian Paintbrush,
longing for someone
uncensored and nice;
handsome and cool-tempered.
No, boy, these highways don't
have a clue that they're
putting unmarked distance
between us in the form of
yellow lines and blurry scenery.

But it's too late to
chew on these regrets
and you're the only
thing I'm afraid of;
light and tall,
made of prairie flesh
with a bruised cherry
mouth that never wakes me
from my foreign dreams,
the color of fire and salt,
tasting of apple pie and freedom.

If I stood my ground
for once like you did
in a crowd of bullies
so long ago in that
alley with bloody
bricks scraping against your spine,
maybe, boy, you'd think this was
worth staying long enough to enjoy
and I wouldn't be alone now,
smoking a cigarette in this
methane downpour.

And you always said when
we were alone in the safe
shadows of your parents' living room,
"Remember that storm,
the one that took both our childhoods
and meshed them together,
made us more than just strangers?"
And I'm forced to nod and
pretend I don't feel your
cheek pressing against my neck.
Boy, you're so bold.
Why aren't you more careful?
Haven't you learned your lesson?

You saved me twice," you murmur,
gazing at me from a sleeping bag
with soft eyes that make me
wish I didn't know you.
A Mayan tear sits on your lash line.
I tell you not to cry
because it's scary, friend, and
because I can't think
when you're so beautiful.

"Kiss me."
"No," I insist.
You say you can't
kill these feelings
with a shotgun or
even persistence,
that it's useless
and you just want
to kiss boys,
hold someone's hand
when you shouldn't
come close to hoping
for an accepting tomorrow,
painted purple and gold
outside your window.

But it's too late to hide
these cravings like CD cases
in the glove compartment
or ginger snaps
in a kitchen cupboard.
It's hard to tell if
I'm on your mind from miles away.
But I want to kiss your lips
as they kiss me with despair
and have your hands;
warm and pushing my
body against a cheap wall,
making me feel like
I have no choice but
to let you crack me open
like a battered music box.

I want you to know
I'm not the same
stuck-up bastard
I was when I said no
to the gentle train
of your fingers along
my toxic collarbone.
Boy, I'm sorry for that, especially.
And I'm sorry I took
too long to show up
in ratty jeans and a ripped t-shirt,
begging for my key back
and for the taste of
august daylight on your tongue.
um yeah.. currently I'm obsessed with the song "Highway Don't Care" by Tim Mcgraw, but just to clarify, this is another poem about a gay relationship (2 boys) ;)
Add a Comment:
BabyDeer-Draws Featured By Owner Oct 29, 2013  Hobbyist General Artist
Wow, this is beautiful. I love it. 
autumn-spirit Featured By Owner Oct 29, 2013
thanks :)
BabyDeer-Draws Featured By Owner Oct 30, 2013  Hobbyist General Artist
You're welcome. :D
tucraz Featured By Owner Oct 25, 2013  Student Traditional Artist
Wow. I love the imagery, the emotion, the bittersweetnes of it. And this is definitely going into my faves. I would ask how you were able to capture what it's like for a guy to be gay, but it's not really too hard to imagine yourself in their situation when you are there yourself, just in the opposite sex. This one brings back some bittersweet memories for me, not painful, but some what-ifs. The part that really got me though, was 'hoping for an accepting tomorrow'. May that day come soon for all of us who are different. May we be accepted regardless of who we love, how we dress, or any other reason associated.
autumn-spirit Featured By Owner Oct 26, 2013
such a sweet comment..thank you :) in answer to your question, I read a lot of gay male oriented books like The Vast Fields of Ordinary, I'll get there, it better be worth the trip, A Time Before Me, etc. Currently my favorite is Aristotle and Dante Discover the Secrets of the Universe. I think it helps not only with understanding the POV of a gay man but the overall fears and insecurities of being a teenage boy in general.
tirasunil Featured By Owner Oct 25, 2013  Student Writer
So are you gay? I am not but I like the imagery here and the emotion.
autumn-spirit Featured By Owner Oct 25, 2013
yeah I'm a lesbian :)
tirasunil Featured By Owner Oct 26, 2013  Student Writer
Ahh okay. :) Well I notice you write from all different perspectives and it's very interesting and enlightening.
autumn-spirit Featured By Owner Oct 26, 2013
yeah I don't think my gender or sexual orientation should limit my writing :)
tirasunil Featured By Owner Oct 26, 2013  Student Writer
Of course not! :)
autumn-spirit Featured By Owner Oct 26, 2013
but there are people who only write about straight couples because they're straight or lesbians who only write about women and never think outside the box and it's frustrating, not to mention boring :P
tirasunil Featured By Owner Oct 26, 2013  Student Writer
Yeah I gotcha. I'm glad you feel the creativity to extend your reach! :)
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Submitted on
October 25, 2013


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