My back arched
Like a bridge
From my South
And you,
My True North.
His hands steepled
Above my head
Like a home
I never wished
To leave.
His body framed
Around my own
So perfectly;
He was the molding
On my decaying cabin.
Author's Notes/Comments:
Inspired by: “When most people looked at me, they only saw a certain collection of bones. But he saw past the mouth and the eyes, the architecture of the body, my fleshy masquerade. Other boys were happy enough to enjoy the show, they just wanted to be entertained in the body’s shadow theater. But he had to come backstage.” Paint it Black, by Janet Fitch
Beautiful use of metaphor!
J-Called