I spent my childhood and most of my teenage life dreaming about my first kiss - the fireworks and electricity and romance - oh god, I couldn't wait for the perfection of the first boy who touched his lips to mine.
And then I turned seventeen...
In reality, most of my kisses were stolen from me.
1. A stage kiss, with a boy who dreaded even speaking to me in theatre class.
2. A boy I barely spoke to, using me as an example to show others on how to kiss a girl, with no warning or permission, he grabbed my face in his and harshly crushed my mouth with his (This is not how you kiss a girl).
3. The first time I was ever intoxicated by alcohol and the thought of a cute boy finding me attractive. He poured me whiskey and whispered empty compliments in my ear. I woke up laying on the cold floor the next morning alone (He didn't find me attractive, he found me drunk on the idea that he was the first tongue in my mouth).
4. An awkward ride home from waffle house with a half stranger, with my best friend in the backseat because we just had to sneak out of the house, that led to a goodnight kiss that I didn't expect, nor did I desire.
5. A twenty year old soldier that I met on vacation at the beach, after having admitting to hating sand, he threw me in it and kissed me and asked me if the tiny grains were such a bad thing after all (they were). He mimicked the waves of the ocean with his tongue but this was before I knew how to swim (at least he tried to be romantic, I suppose).
6. A late adventure at the park with teenagers who were more dangerous and rebellious than I, which ended with a quick smokey kiss from a boy who was darker than the night and higher than the stars that shone above our heads.
7. A tall boy with shaggy hair who played The White Stripes songs on guitar and smelled like beer and cigarette smoke. He left me with a hangover,swollen lips, a neck full of hickeys, and a mind full of guilt as I tried to hide the splotches from my parents the day they came back from vacation.
8. A drunk game of truth-or-dare at 3 am with my best friend; the first ******* the list. Of course, one of the guys spoke for all of them when he urged us to make-out (we should have seen that one coming).
9. A younger boy who got angry at me when he realized that I wasn't drunk enough to have *** with him the first time I met him.
10. A man in a pop punk band that I met in the party vibes of Bourbon Street. He kissed me behind Momma's back (and my best friend behind mine) and slid his hands down my high-waisted shorts and I don't quite remember his stories of fame, only his name.
11. He had sweet eyes and brown curly hair and he seemed like a gentleman, but I guess the ***** changed us both.
12. The chaste and charming piano player, who I dreamt of running away with since the first time I laid eyes on him in ninth grade. That apartment bed meant more to me than it did to him. He only used me for experience (I guess the piano wasn't the only instrument he played).
13. "Can I please kiss you?" I hesitated, because I felt dizzy and drunk and disbelieving. I didn't want to forget any detail of the first kiss that actually meant something to me. I didn't think it would mean anything to you at all. But even sober, we both wanted it. So I said yes, and kissed her. And now I don't ever want to stop...
Thirteen.
The Unluckiest number.
Too many thoughtless lips and tongues and mouths and hands that touched only my body.
But you kissed my soul.
How did I get so lucky?
more of a story, rather than a poem