Omniphase Challenge - The Best
Let’s go back. Way back, when everything was fresh and innocent. For two guys, I was a toy one night. Something fun and distracting. They never planned on ever seeing me after that night, unless it was to fuck me.
Lexi tastes like sugar, laid in lines over steel. His kisses burn the top of your mouth, like cocaine you take in for the first very time. He’s warmhotcool, when his cheek brushes over yours. He smells like leather, a little bit of smoke. When he breathes, it comes out in a tiny huff, like he’s amused or trying to keep something inside his chest. When he kisses me, I hear snow falling, wool rustling, when you run in the drifts, when the white cold is clinging on you and you can’t shake it loose.
My Frankie tastes like the bottom of an ashtray…soaked in alcohol. But behind that, I can taste frosting cakes and summer fields in the sun. I can hear V8 engines and pretty Midwestern girls giggling, so many you can’t even count them. I hear guns. I taste blood. His kiss spreads over my mouth, like the caramel off the apple at a county fair, in the sunshine, before the lemonade gels it. It lingers. It’s still there, the first thing I taste in the morning. His breath is caught, like the last breath you have before you tell someone goodbye. It’s always been that way.
Who was the best kisser that night? Who’s kissed me best since? Who’s the best? The best man? The best family? The best lover? The best friend? The best teacher? The best fuck? The best memory? The best moment suspended in time? The best days of my life were spent with which of those two?
Who’s the best? Who’s number one? Who’s the winner of the game?
That’s easy. I can tell you…
It’s him.
Him
The one that’s on their minds when they fall asleep. The one who’s kiss they ache for. The one who makes their breath catch. The one who will be there when they’re done playing with me.
May the best man win.
Ryan Jacks
381 words
Lexi tastes like sugar, laid in lines over steel. His kisses burn the top of your mouth, like cocaine you take in for the first very time. He’s warmhotcool, when his cheek brushes over yours. He smells like leather, a little bit of smoke. When he breathes, it comes out in a tiny huff, like he’s amused or trying to keep something inside his chest. When he kisses me, I hear snow falling, wool rustling, when you run in the drifts, when the white cold is clinging on you and you can’t shake it loose.
My Frankie tastes like the bottom of an ashtray…soaked in alcohol. But behind that, I can taste frosting cakes and summer fields in the sun. I can hear V8 engines and pretty Midwestern girls giggling, so many you can’t even count them. I hear guns. I taste blood. His kiss spreads over my mouth, like the caramel off the apple at a county fair, in the sunshine, before the lemonade gels it. It lingers. It’s still there, the first thing I taste in the morning. His breath is caught, like the last breath you have before you tell someone goodbye. It’s always been that way.
Who was the best kisser that night? Who’s kissed me best since? Who’s the best? The best man? The best family? The best lover? The best friend? The best teacher? The best fuck? The best memory? The best moment suspended in time? The best days of my life were spent with which of those two?
Who’s the best? Who’s number one? Who’s the winner of the game?
That’s easy. I can tell you…
It’s him.
Him
The one that’s on their minds when they fall asleep. The one who’s kiss they ache for. The one who makes their breath catch. The one who will be there when they’re done playing with me.
May the best man win.
Ryan Jacks
381 words