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.