Nineteen

Nineteen
He is golden-haired

unaware of his own strength

lisping, deep-voiced and beautiful. He brought out in me

both mother and lover, counsellor

last night

fingers wrapped around a cigarette,

he looked at me – no, around me

avoiding my eye as if he’d never seen a naked woman before

I bowed, pressed the fruit of my lips to the steel wire flex in his arms

inhaled hot flesh, pornography, confusion 

he is used to

nasty, nameless stuff played by nasty, nameless people

in his single bed, dreaming in silicon tits and money shots,

what’s left of his brain paints patterns on sheets his mother

 launders with care, for him.

He told me I could hit him,spit on him. Fast forward and

he is regretting his words

watching as they send him sprawling,so nervous that my bed shakes beneath his trembling

as I kiss his fingers, one by one

he is 

what you’d generously call 

a ‘troubled youth’. Two suspensions

angry, isolated Asian parents

only child

occasional wearer of women’s underwear and desperately ashamed of everything. In almost perfect

Chinese English, he tells me his depravity – possibly gay –penchant for stealing. Breaking and entering.I am soft and stern with him,

cradling his honesty and feeling tenderly disposed to this little boy lost. 

Naked against me,he is breathless, mumbles– I don’t know what to do or say – burning with embarrassment, made ofmuscle and iron

I stroke his spine until he relaxes, becomes feline and exhales

I say – think of me as a friend…without the clothes – and

his nineteen year old smile ignites me like a warm blue wave tasting sand. Later, between

the teeth nipping rosebud blooms at the base of my throat and the

solitary re-remembering,

rosy and alone

he apologises. Blushes. Asks for a glass of water, but not before

carefully pulling his clothes back on –

brave enough to stroke, upon leaving,

the flush that decorates my breast bone

and stumbling – again so shy and raw with a new memory – he tells me that I look so pretty

I close the doorand lean against it, likea third-rate rom-com heroine

mid-swoon 

and laugh to myself,but quietly.

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About fiercemissc

Twenty-something Geordie girl living and working in Hong Kong. Young, free and single and making the most of it.
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