I find it hard to write poems about ‘happy’ topics, but writing this came easily to me. There is something innocent about a first kiss that just can’t be ignored; first kisses don’t hold the weight of history, or the pressure of the future, they live for the here and now. I’ve tried to capture not only the feeling of being flustered during your first kiss, but also the humour and purity of it; hopefully my memories will be enough.
Park Kisses When you kiss me for the first time, The only thought running through my head was: Breathe. Now I’ve heard stories where people have stolen breath away, And they say things like “he stole my breath away”, But, I just always thought they were lies. But your lips on mine proved me wrong And now I want to break all the other myths of love. I want to feel the fireworks, I want to feel the shivers of anticipation, I want to look you in your eyes and actually get lost in them, Truly lost in them, Not fake lost, like I pretend I haven’t seen the old man on the bench feeding the pigeons, And the kids running after the dog that’s off its lead, And the drug deal going down next to the tree with the purple leaves. I want to actually be lost. When you kiss me for the second time, All I can think is: You have soft lips Now that might seem boring, Or bland, Or unoriginal, But your lips were so soft that I was scared to bite them; I didn’t want to ruin the perfection. Have you ever wondered what cotton candy would feel like if it wasn’t so sticky and didn’t dissolve the moment it touched water? Or how it would feel to pluck a cloud from the sky, if clouds weren’t just molecules of water, and rub it against your face? Or have you ever wondered what it would feel like to kiss a girl with a really good lip routine, I’m talking scrub, mask, moisturise, that good of a routine? Well, it would be his lips. But then you kissed me again and again And I lost count. So, I can’t tell you what I thought the twentieth time we kissed. But I can tell you what I thought when you kissed me in the park. When your lips found mine in the park I felt brave. I was brave enough to breathe again. I was brave enough to bite them. I was brave enough to ignore the old man on the bench feeding the pigeons, And the kids running after the dog that’s off its lead, And the drug deal going down next to the tree with the purple leaves. When you kissed me in the park I was finally brave enough to get lost. But when you stopped, I was scared you were too.