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