Confession

This is how it happened (I knew it would happen).

He landed a blow to the left side of my face (no, no, that's not the right place to start). My ear still stings.

It's only to be expected when it's just two boys out there, knowing each other for so long (as we have), watching each other. Only too simple to portend when the line of work is purely physical (you would understand, you would, the days to nights, the stress on the system, mindless routine, motion to motion).

We were alive on the grounds (far too alive for it not to happen, both knowing it would). Training as always (he's been trying for years). He touched me (I said this). He landed a blow to the left side of my face (and it hurt, my ear still stings because the muscles in his legs are strong, so strong, so so so strong).

And it knocked me into a dizzy state where everything became clearer (far too easy) and I danced spinning into him and we fell and we made love.

No (no…let me try again).

It was not that pretty. The issue of my hair for instance.

He touched me (I said this) and my ear still stings. I was dizzy and I tottered forward and my chin hit his bare shoulder and the muscles there were hard. My teeth caught my lip and it bled, smelling the sweat on the skin and tasting my blood on my face (on-his-shoulder-my-shirt, on-his-chest-in-my-hair).

I crashed into him in this way and we fell to the ground (dropped straight down). And kinetics brought his hand to my face (pulled the hair plastered there) gripped my jaw, saw the blood. And I crashed once again, put the blood on his tongue (caught our breath in a kiss) and in this way we fell on his back on the dirt (mud after the sweat) and I pulled out the grass in my fists.

No (was it?), yes (it was). It was violent and forceful (but not forced) and it hurt (my lip, I mean, and other things).

Like our sternums would break, pushing so hard against (so we rolled to our sides, shoved me off, tugged him over). Our ribs beat the ground, through the grass to the dirt (mud after the sweat) and our thumbs clawed at jaws and my hair in our mouths and we slipped off each other until we stopped pulling so hard to get close (and we felt how close we could possibly get in the curves of our spines and the welts on our necks).

And then (yes, now) we made love with my shoulder exposed and his hand on my chest counting breaths in between. Our ribs found the grass and our skin found the dark (out of the glow that times on so we can make it home in the night, ten minutes before, fifteen).

From a dizzying height I fell back from my side and saw clearly the rise and fall air in his chest (where my sweat and my blood and the dirt, long since mud, stood sharply defined). His hair still fell straight, short and framing his face (and his round, round, round eyes very black out of light).

He sat on my hips and laid down over me (with my chin on his shoulder, hard muscle there softer). I stared over his back as his spine shook and shook and I thought about hiding the bruises blooming among his ribs (from the dirt under the grass laying limp in my fists).

We were crying along the right side of my face (tears were falling, we were not crying). We were not sad (in the way where your heart hurts, our heads were confused, we fell out of ourselves in this way).

And, and, I may have forgotten some parts of it (the clothes off, the mark on my arm), but this is how it happened.

The first crash (it should have stopped there).

Today, my ear still stings.

Tomorrow I will still be drying the other one (I fall out of myself in that way).