Red Electric Guitar


I remember how we sneaked up to your room when your parents were not around.

I like your small bed. The teddy bear I gave you was propped at the edge. I recall you name it after your favorite bassist. I love how our bodies fill up all the empty spaces. 

You’d turn up the volume of the music through your computer near the stairs. I know how you fancy seeing me, running around naked. You’ll whip out your camera and take my photograph. I’d pose like your darling journalist, and we’d laugh. 

We heard a sound of doors opening. You dressed as I sat on the cold floor waiting. 

After a few thrilled heartbeats, you asked me to hide on the balcony. And as they climbed up the stairs, you threw me a quick nervous stare. Your red electric guitar, the only thing that’s blocking me from their judging glare.

We don’t know if they knew. I don’t think we cared. So we sneaked out quickly and left for a wholesome date.


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