"Like a whisper of a touch,
Warm breathe exchanged in an embrace.
Soft skin, parting for the other."
Is that what you expect me to say?
My first kiss was a mistake, one I'm sure we all made. Eager teens searching for a connection wherever, hoping to fill the hole in their existence. He wasn't bad by any
standard, no not at all. He was quite a catch. In my opinion, the cutest boy in school. Or second cutest, it's hard to tell. He had a full hair, smelled nice and his presence always puts butterflies in my stomach. Although, whether they were fluttering or breathing fire, I wouldn't know. He had a cute smile and like all girls my age, I was in love.
It was fast, uncoordinated, and filled with way more spit than was needed. He had no idea what to do, and I was practically a novice myself. It made no sense like I'm sure yours did too. It, however reminds me of something else. Beyond the spittle and bad hand grab, it reminds me of a different time.
My first kiss signified a period in my life, where I let all men have a chance. I was desperate, and it showed. A smile, and my heart fluttered, the tiniest compliments and I fell hard. I let him kiss me, and then several more hims after him. More overeager, stupid hand grabbing novices. They put their lips on the wrong places and their hands touched me where I didn't want them to.
My first kiss is a reminder of all that I took that I didn't deserve. A reminder of a time that I accepted less than, that I felt not enough. My first kiss to me is a metaphor. It represents a place I'll never be again.
© Amy's Artistry