just a drink

sometime i imagine my skin

slick with citrus.

a boy with frail wings

drinks just to drink.

lips pressed against mine,

cool and sweet,

thin tongue searching

the crevices of me

for nectar.

his skin is transparent,

ribs flexing,

heart pulsing

with little whirring lights.

it’s a simple thing.

he doesn’t speak

he only swallows,

iridescent wings shivering.

lips are locked together

but eyes are open,

swirling with something primal.

something that goes beyond

soft hips and pursed lips.

beyond the need to do something

of significance.

this isn’t for anyone else.

no seed will be planted,

and nothing will grow or die.

the only thing that matters

is that he’s thirsty

and i am something

to drink.