your body curves and pulses in the same ways mine does
our legs shake in unison and our eyes droop in the same corners
our noses hook together when we kiss, roman in the worst form
all these synchronicities feel like a wooden trojan horse
ready to burst with the amount of feelings tucked inside
nearly splintering into any available skin and bone that
wish to cling to each other in the same ways, in the same curves
and pulses with anticipation for the familiarity of friendship
if this is even friendship, if it can be called that i guess i’ve never
had a friend before you, if you can even be called a boy or a man
or a friend, tucked inside this horse as it’s towed into the fortress
and left to fester and rot the surrounding skin with thoughts
of self worthlessness and sexual pleasure only.
does it hurt you too?
By Jules Descoteaux
Jules Descoteaux (they/she) is a recent graduate of Saint Mary’s College, South Bend, Indiana. Living art and imitating life’s darkest moments, she finds solace in writing, making unprecedented and unpracticed visual art, and attempting to be funny online. More of her work across different genres can be found at julesnjd.tumblr.com.