The Boy Who Cried No
I am the rotting composition
of all your dreams and nightmares,
the uninhibited wine cellar
of Pinot Grigio cravings,
the back seats clouds
of lustful innuendo,
and the gracious tendrils
peaking beyond the carriage
of your pipe dreams.
I am the deafening screams
of your lover consumed,
the angry scars of a lost boy
drowning. You will die in these
memories, be tainted by my caresses
and make songs of my touch.
You will sing,
cry wolf of these
late nights and
no
one
will
believe
you.
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Early Childhood Education Major. I am a 19 year old teacher (three year olds) in a Christian based daycare and a full time college student.
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