i had the biggest crush on my poetry professor in college. i always tried to impress him but it never went the way i planned.

some of the best moments in class were when he looked me dead in the eyes and my heart stopped. he didn't give a lot of compliments, but he honestly could have told me my work was complete shit and i still would have loved him.

he nominated me for a poetry prize and i about died. i didn't win, but i entered proudly.

i wish i knew how to talk to him

like somehow if i could have told him how much i (did and still do) admire him then i might have

closure, but

memorizing the lyrics
to that song
          (i don't get pangs anymore--
i sing along. i know every word.
          you promised me we'd fuck with
that song on repeat)
wasn't as easy as
memorizing your body

my tongue folded
over your cock
but i guess
you fucked the words
way back into my throat,
stuck them there with
jets of semen(t).
at that point i was never easy
to understand... always
forgetting words, and then
clogged vocal chords.

when my dad
mentioned golf,
all i could think about
was when you and i played
nintendo golf, stoned.

he said something about
reading the green
and i pictured
the neon lines
and arrows
of the video game,
telling me how and where
to shoot.

i wish that
i could play life
like you played me
like the video games
when we were stoned
and didn't see the world
as it was,
but as the best version
of itself.

i can hear you
snoring in the next room
and i feel
guilty
for fucking you.

i will probably
fall asleep
on this couch
          's arm(rest?)
and not you(rs).

i will never
taste dreams
on your tongue
upon first waking.