My habits are recognisable in
  the other me
  younger me
  still toothy me.
But they're not yet habits, they're just
  experiences
  or experiments
  expectations, perhaps.
Slowly passing one round finger
through a candle's flame -
a flicker, but no real heat.
Suddenly it isn't
  a first chord
  first love
  or first drink;
all those vampires we once invited,
they don't forget which thresholds
they can and cannot cross -
now they come and go
as they please.
Can't we?