underneath his
three days unshaven
teenage boy stubble
his lips lie, somewhat inquisitive, somewhat apathetic.
every freckle gracing his
skin, which is a few shades darker than mine.
somewhere in his eyes - which i didn't appreciate until now
and somewhere in my lips - which he doesn't appreciate anymore
theres some sort of tension, stirring silently
under shifting feet and clenched fists enclosed in pant's front pockets.
and i say
there's a lot of beautiful things in this world
and you aren't one of them.

11/26/2003

Author's Note: this is the *actual* "stirring silently," the other one was misnamed.

Posted on 11/27/2003
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