unfamiliar home
a slight, fragile bubble trapped
by the ballpoint pen

We did not wait as long as the others.
We were ready before they were.
And that's okay.
I was fourteen the first time.
Not understanding what I was getting myself into.
Eventually we stripped our stars, with everything on the floor, and a locked door.
You were sprawled across the canvas...
I began to paint.
Swirls, faces, unfamiliar places.
All I wanted to see
was you.
All I wanted to taste
was you.
All that I tasted was, indeed, you...
Nothing sweet.
Refreshing, yes, minty...
But not sweet.
Clumsy mouths, bumping off one another in the darkness.
Unexperienced lovers, unsure of our next moves.
I was as brave of a gentleman as I could have been, but you...
You tread on my courage.
And I do not miss you.
No, I do not miss you, but I am sorry...
Forgive me.

You're like winter to me now,
bitter and frozen.

Wrapped up in layers of unfamiliar
fabrics and smells.

Distant summer scorching.

There are still grains of sand in your shoes
but the first frost has
long passed.