Inner elbow to wrist, it swirls.
Every line rendered with precision and patience.
Temporary beauty.
A piece of home.
I feel the heat of his body through the thin cotton of his shorts.
That feathery sensation of the pen, the way our eyes meet in such close proximity.
An unspoken intimacy burns as the tiny universe evolves.
He's so intently focused on my arm.
He doesn't notice the secret silent words I'm mouthing in the dark.
I love you.
I love you Amos Vale.
You've had my heart for almost two hundred days.
???
Perhaps the stars never left me.
Perhaps it was me who hardened.
A protective shell to guard my heart.
Until now.
But this boy dissolves me with ease.
Why have I been such a chicken about telling him how I feel?
I'm gonna say it tonight.
Soon.
“Rest your arm across my chest while I dry the ink,” he says.
I recline on my back, hand outstretched.
Heated breath blows left to right along my skin.
My pulse quickens, not just from the arousal.
Tell him.
Come on, say it.
“Mark loved these stars,” I begin.
Amos pauses for a moment.
“He did. And so does my Marco.”
