please, muse, tell me about the girls i have known.
the sweet, drunken collision in late summer.
that second, drunker moan in early spring.
it wasn't real until they pressed their soft, wet lips to my own
and gave me the deed to my own life.
it wasn't real until i realised i could kiss back
wrapping my arms around her waist
stretching my hands up her back
feeling baby hairs at the tips of my fingers
slotting my tongue into her mouth
feeling my teeth clashing
gums sliding
like my back, up the wall.
it wasn't real until another begged me to slide into her bed, giggling,
pressing her nose to mine
slowly turning her face making me feel like i am plummeting
until i am caught by her sigh into my heavy mouth.
she pressed her body against mine and dug her hands into my thick hair
begging me,
begging me to remember it all tomorrow, to not forget.
i may have been buzzed,
drunk,
wasted,
but how could i deny her this gift?