i’m 13 and my first kiss is from a boy named nick behind ****’s sporting goods in stale street air. nick’s canadian and when i ask if he can speak french he says no but I can play hockey and that is the next best thing

a week prior when i tell lauren we’ve been dating seven months and haven’t kissed yet she can’t believe it but all i believe is i’m 13 and a first kiss was supposed to be so special
so special i am too scared to close my eyes so my first kiss is a waterfront view of spider-leg eyelashes, too much spit, and all nick.

two weeks later he calls me cherry and i call him kiwi because we think normal pet names are too mainstream.

three weeks later nick breaks up with me when i corner him by the west wing lockers in the middle school by english class. i confront him, lay out the facts, and that is that.
  
i’m 14 and my second kiss is by the bleachers at the high school football game – not behind because behind the bleachers is where kids go for second base and to form ****** lips around leaf sweet smoke.
i‘m 14 and my second kiss is still nick but it’s not all spit and i wonder who he’s been kissing
i’m 14 and my second kiss is to the melody of a collective crowd’s stamping feet and a boy named jared with no real teeth wolf-whistling at us from the corner  
i’m 14 and i remember to close my eyes  

i’m 15 and grind on levi who’s twice my height to a rihanna song at homecoming
his crotch is against my upper back when it should be against my ***
he doesn’t kiss me, drops me off, speeds away in his oldsmobile

i’m 17 and my first **** is with a man named dan who serves at the same restaurant i smile at and hand menus out for tips. i’m his twenty-third and for a while after 23 is my favorite number
i’m 17 and i’m bleeding on dan’s brother’s sheets
i’m 17 and afterwards dan sleeps with a girl named stephanie who probably ***** better than me. i got my ears pierced at claire's last year but stephanie has tattoos between her **** and a dermal.

i’m 20 and barely flinch when i see nick at the local community college. i ask if he still plays hockey and he asks me what good books i’ve read lately and i wonder if he’s any good in bed.

i’m 22 and i’ve laid with a dozen men, all nestled like eggs in my crate of shame

i’m 22 and i've learned to close my eyes until they've finished with me

I have been the crying drunk in the hotel lobby,
The mosquito bite in the thin white sheets.
I have been the monsoon rain in the tropical heat;
I have been everything you said I could never be.

On the streets of dust I can eat my fill,
No more clouded eyes, no more ash-filled windowsill.
No more patient wait for my timely death,
No more passing glance; no more loneliness.

I will find my place with this foreign tongue,
On the precipice I write my immigrant song.
This culture shock makes me feel alive,
It kick-starts my heart; I finally turned the tide.

I finally made my peace in this call for arms,
In this incessant storm, I could feel the calm.
Could feel it loosen my bones,
That age-old ache, that I kissed on the mouth,
That I tried to replace

With every chemical within my reach,
With every pill or lie
That passed through my teeth.
I have been the crying drunk,
I have been the victim, too long.
I sit still and breathe.
I write my immigrant song.

I should have forgotten your face over time,
Red flush on your lips after a bottle of wine,
I should have pushed you out of the door,
But still I loved you,
Still, I came back for more.

I should have left you in the hurricane
After you drowned me in the flood,
I nursed your nails after they tore a wound,
Like any good lover would.

I should have kept talking about the starlight
And not the darkness in between,
I should have met you after the pills,
After I finally got clean.

I should have forgotten your claim over time,
Ruined songs now a white-noise lullaby.
I should have seen it coming,
I have seen it all before,

But still I found I loved you,
Still, I came back for more.

all the songs i lost on lovers

no longer mine

*****-inducing

barbiturate of old guilt

and even older happiness

all the songs i lose on lovers

all the lovers i lost to verse

May you never find a garden ugly,
a day when music has no life,
may you always slave at your soul,
your perfect reflection;
a kiss in the festival night.

May you never meet a door unopened
in the corridors of love,
may you always pick at your plate,
your humble inflictions;
the death of the stars above.

May you never find an empty space,
a day when beauty has no sight,
may you always search the skies,
your ****** wisdom;
a kiss in the festival night.