Blood Orange/Baby Blue

on the blurry Monday night you waited hours for me at a shitty bar, i pretended you weren’t the most handsome boy i know. after we almost fucked in a photobooth, my eyelids grew heavier (i’d assumed an effect of the sleepy alcohol. Why is it so hard for me to admit you’re just boring?) i stuck around anyway, kissing all 4 miles to your house where i paid no attention to Trainspotting because you fucked me better than i knew possible. i looked past your bad taste in music and pillow talk when you nearly pulled my hair out, choking me with your fingers slipped between my teeth, the only time a boy had made me come. while i could never get tired of your lips, 5 a.m. baby blue light washed over your bittersweet face and i had my first sober thought: am i that goddamn shallow?