We kissed before we knew each other in a ***** garage and a drunken haze and I only brought it up when I wanted to do it again.
I don’t know if you remember the day I sat in the sun, and you lay with your head in my lap. It was the first time I played with your hair, and I was maybe a little in love.
We would be a disaster self-conscious and cynical meets all you need is love, opposites exploding, but our fights would be quiet passive aggressive like nothing else in our lives.
Still I almost kissed you at 5 am. As we drove, we saw the sun halo the back of a mountain, but I almost kissed you in front of the airport, air congested as engines idled on the curbside. We hugged and I spun you and letting go did not seem like an option did not seem like a choice I would ever make if I wasn’t forced
Let’s be our own catastrophe.
You’re the first girl I ever wrote a poem about. The days you asked what was wrong were days I most wanted you to kiss me. I want you to stop playing at quiet oblivion and realize I’m just using your tattoo as an alibi so I can press my skin into yours.