His whimper in the depths of the night
Not yet a beast, not even two decades out of diapers
Oblivious to most things, including his beauty
and my love for him like thunder
brewing, soon to crash
The winding black hair on the inside of his thighs
The careful release of his air as I swallow his semen
its slow warm journey down the back of my throat
and finally him, spent
displayed upon my white linen,
legs spread, mouth gaped
A fucking monument
Considering youth
is just a beach seconds before sun set
swept hair and white teeth
and considering being young
has nothing to do with any of that
perhaps I shouldn’t panic as it dwindles here
or resent it exploding in all its glory there
upon my bed
The saliva of his cock stretching to his torso
The twitch of one finger,
The crescent moon of his thumb nail
The flaking skin between his toes
And now my ear
listening to his thunder,
distant, out to sea
Even my sleeping compared to his seems contrived