306 Syllables: A Brief History of Kissing
by Corinne Caraway
You were my first kiss. Grabbing for what was not yours, until I ran out. Hesitant, but sure. My second chance at wholesome. We have come so far. Where did you come from? You tasted like jazz music. Summer was too short. You were a senior. We never even dated. I was your first kiss. Legend to the town, kissed me in a parking lot. Haven’t seen you since. A brief interlude. We probably kissed too much, never talked enough. You were wasted time. Thanks for kissing me senseless, but you weren’t that great. There is too much here. You, who convinced me that violence is love. Somewhere, we made it. Here, you are the Golden Boy I hated missing. I lost control as drunkenness crept over me. You took advantage. In a crowded room, I finally saw you there. I wish I hadn’t. We kissed till day break. I wouldn’t take it back though. Growing up is hard. Morning brought regret of the way I kissed you just to prove that I could. An almost romance. Said you were a gentleman, but you were just cold. I needed a break; just a little tenderness. It was worth a try. It was all a game. Until one night in your car we stopped pretending. You took kisses like they were going to run out, so one day they did. We kissed in a cab near midnight in Manhattan. One final first kiss.