the interim of 14.

i debate the unsaid words

that strain with persistence

from your eyes,

eyes of emerald cities

with buildings tipped with gold.

in increments we sip

on beer laced with lust,

as we slip from the safety

of kisses

into the free fall of unknown.

i know

you won't remember the shape

of my mouth in the morning,

but that's just fine,

for my eyes are petals

destined to fall in defeat,

and your fingers along

my cheekbones

are memories meant

to be forgotten.