“ A cruel summer”

It was hot and heavy in the heat of that moment. Sweat shared and flesh folded. A hard heat, a personal summer. Was it real? Or just another dream drenched, and drained. Shame simmered not at lust or looks, but the value I let it give me. A trade of the dysmorphic refraction for the true reflection of a boy who had beauty, but never believed. My nights trapped in the prison of passion, now lost, but never had. I once lost sleep due to pain so this is just a new one. I can now see myself as an object of desire and this summer is hot: the wildest of fire. Burning and blazing the beauty will burn out. Filled with fear of having no lover at the end of this drought. I grew old, hiding from this feeling. They say ignorance is bliss, but I will insist on my power. Suffocating from the hot hurt of this heat, my logic defies reason but I'm still madly “in love” with this intensely cruel season.