I unzip you from cave mouth
to sex-craved stomach, spilling
your brown flesh coat
to the sides. I’m eye to eye
with your teenage
thoughts, each stored safe
on the shelves of your ribs. I run

my fingers along the bones
of bunched-up underwear,
an old shower head, and a Playboy
magazine. To the left, there’s the handle
of a hairbrush, wet
with the smell of sex. Your body is overrun
by a cascading pink flush. I stick my head
into your open chest, and confess:
If it makes you feel better, my first dick
was a bottle of whiteboard eraser fluid.

Your laugh drips down my head, rubbing
the tender spot behind my ears. It’s funny
how we stored our first meetings
with shame in similar ways. I remove
my hands from you, and rip myself open—
belly button to salivating pussy. I see you

see the stash of gay comics, the desperate
self-convincing that this was mere curiosity,
the small ghosts of girls I called close friends
but thought of kissing, and the stack of plaid
t-shirts I tucked into capri pants
all through ninth grade. Your teeth
toy at my insides, eyes still locked on mine,
as you eat my teenage shame out.

Copyright © 2026 by Cypher