I am told that the first love
should hold a special place
within the heart.

Tucked away, sheltered
in a mysterious compartment.

When I thought of those days,
I would plead my mind to turn off that switch,
so I do not have to remember
the first love.

Seeing those days filled
with a certain joy indescribable
to the untrained soul,
I ask my mind to free me
from such shackles.

But I realize that my mind
is not seeking to torture.
I see those days filled with
warm embraces, encased
by grace and interlaced
with every place
we shared together.
I see these memories,
so short and sweet,
and I realize a first love
does not need to hurt.

So when my mind decides
to reopen that small compartment,
I feel a new love.
One that is nostalgic, reminiscent
of a great story,
and nothing more.
Something that can only be described
as a first love.