The first time I kissed a girl was spin the bottle in the park.

She was older than me, more experienced. Her lips were soft and silent. I was nervous but not scared.

It felt right and I was left in the grass wondering

who am I? 

That night I dreamt of soft curves and gentle hands 

on my skin. Lipstick kisses that left me sticky where 

they pressed. Varnished nails and mascara lined eyes all femininity 

in its finest form. I awoke panting and breathless, hand beneath sheet

for the first time I felt alive.

There was no second kiss. Her name eludes me now. 

Does she remember kissing in the park, the summer sun hot

and the grass beneath us damp. Does she remember my lips? 

I do not remember her face, it is like a faded picture but I remember the kiss oh and

the sparks in my stomach, too high to be arousal

they were more like an understanding. 

Awakening.