This is a poem about the first boy I ever considered myself “in love” with. He was someone I had known since we were kids. We were best friends for years. Now, I doubt I would even acknowledge him if I saw him walking down the street.
You kissed me in the park where I had seen you for the first time, over ten years prior. It was autumn, and the air tasted like new beginnings and anticipation. My hair clung to my jacket from the electricity in the air. Part of me still wonders if the electricity came from you.
Our hands brushed when we laughed together. I had fought with myself for so long, tried to deny feeling anything for you; you were my best friend. And you were in love with someone else.
I lay my head down on the jungle gym, near the slide. I thought to myself, “Just one push and I will fall backwards and land on my head”. That was kind of what loving you was like anyways.
I watched the sky. Everything was white that day, from the clouds to our breath to your smile when you looked at me.
“She’s lucky,” I told you, biting my tongue once the words poured from my mouth. I could have killed myself right then and there, I really could have.
You cocked your head and smiled down at me from where I lay. “Do you want to be with me?”
It was time to decide then and there, but I guess part of me had already known the answer. “You love her,” I replied, not really answering your question.
You took your hand and placed it on my neck. I flinched at your softness, bracing myself for the words to come.
Everything was still for several seconds. The electricity in the air died and I felt like I was suspended underwater. It was your job now to tell me whether I was drowning or floating.
“You know I will always choose you.”
You tasted like Thanksgiving, or maybe that was because you kissed me in October. I remember shaking, but maybe that was because it was a cold day. I think you were smiling, but maybe you were grimacing.
Fireworks and butterflies were absent for once in my life during a first kiss. This didn’t feel like new excitement; this felt like coming home.