pretty boy

your skin is dark and i remember

the way your knee used to press against mine

in spanish class when the lights were off.

sometimes you appear out of the blue

just to speak to me and i’ve never

understood why. we were never close

enough to justify a random phone call

or a text. you flashed me your skin for a few

months and we kept joking until neither

of us were laughing. then you stopped.

you came to my house on new years

and i thought maybe that night

would be different but you slept on the futon

and flirted with my sister and it wasn’t.

here you are, taunting me, teasing me

and i feel like a string pulled taut.

if you don’t want to do this i’ll tell you what

i told the last pretty boy.

all you have to do is

stop.