no, the first kiss didn’t matter. hardly remembered, really. some boy in kindergarten or first grade, lip-smackers and vaseline, maybe a playground, under the risers at lunch. but i remember the first time my second nature, my sloppy flirtations, threaded a boy’s oblivion. side-swiped a consciousness. the orange lamplight on washington street during kick the [...]
i like when my mouth tastes of yours. or maybe it’s just my tongue’s memory of what your tongue tastes like…. the chemistry of our salivas sliding and mixing, lips igniting heat between lips, teeth gently gnashing lip or cheek, pushing chin, arching up, held head in hands, soft palms, firm grip— cupping my tiny [...]
I didn’t touch myself for 4 weeks because my hands waited for yours… They never arrived with softness or attention– only crude power behind closed doors. So I shoved my hands into my pockets, hoping the denim would warm them when yours weren’t there. They rarely ever were. I wore the fancy underthings in hopes [...]
