My First Kiss Went A Little Like This-

Sitting by a clear blue lake, 

Moon high,

Skipping stones.

Me and him, 

A student and teacher,

At least metaphorically.

I was still young, 

Him a bit older,

And until that night,

I never saw him as more than my friend,

My colleague.

Small conversations,

Headed by stupid questions,


Skip a stone,


The next stupid question;

"How was your first kiss?"

He goes on to explain the logistics of a fifth grade smooch,

While I,

Beautifully plain Jane, 

just giggle.

He returns the question,

leaning in to hear my answer.

I giggle and shake my head,

Telling him 

"No, that's never happened."

His jaw drops,

Doubting anything I've just said,


You're too beautiful, Plain Jane.

I smile, 

Turn to face the lake.

Hear him whisper,



"I can help you."

My mind clouds,

Thinking of what is going to happen,

What a high-schooler can possibly show a girl, 

Barely out of eighth-grade.

I turn,

going to decline his nice offer,

But I speak too late.

Before I can grasp what's happening,

We're entangled,

Lips to lips,

Hips to hips,

Drenched in moonlight.

We share a kiss,

Before I laugh and back up.

"I'm not sure you got the full experience,"

He tells me,

As he proceeds to kiss me again,

and again.

And as I take this in,

I think,

"I'm a new person,

A person who has seen stronger emotions."

But really,

I'm still the same ol' girl,

Hopelessly dwelling on the little things,

I used to know so well.

The End

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