The boy in my kitchen wears your facehow the walls wear their whitepaint-could be any kitchen.But there is a strange precisionto the way light hits and it holds.It takes everything I haveto not peel it off and searchfor something else of you there,in that absence. Or, to not peel it offand offer everything I have. My brokencell phone. My timid sleep. My abilityto orgasm. My entire sophomore year.Everything you took or trained.Everything that fell throughour murky water and came up clean.Somewhere, your hands part a girlwhere she is more like the ocean.Your hands dictate the rising rideof her body, you full and furiousmoon. I do not sink down in the dirtylinoleum, float face up in silence.Do not wring the salt from this wetanimal tongue. Do not even moveto reach inside his mouth, this boywho, after all, is not you. But he smiles,parts his own lips. And I wait,like I have been waiting for youto drown me in your desperate,spoiled sound.- - -Filling the New House by Cam Awkward-Rich- - -#poem #poetry #queer #camawkwardrich