golden boy

ive only been the best at being bitter. im not angry, golden boy, not anymore, but i find ways to hate you anyway, like its the only way i can hold onto you. there is nobody so disarming, and i hate that the most. youre soft all over and even your edges smooth out when the sun filters through the blinds just right and i understand what angels are like when i catch you with your eyes closed. youre soft all over and even your hands, callused and scarred feel sweet on hot skin. youre soft all over and it makes me weak where i try to harden myself, where i shudder and shake trying to pretend i dont see that look in your eyes. or maybe the way i look in the reflection of them. i hate that i know how many freckles you have, that i care enough to know, that i want touch and feel and i hate the charming one at the base of your spine. i hate every ounce of mercy and forgiveness and gentleness you offer, and the way you offer it to me so readily like you know i want you more than anything else. fragile things like love arent certain like this. like you, like us. dont tell me how you feel.