“The Seven People I’ve Kissed”
The first boy I kissed was six years older than me but not much wiser. He tasted like regret and fear, and I have not yet gotten rid of the taste of him on my tongue. I haven’t spoken to him since that night, but every once in a while I see him walking down the street. He does not remember my name.
The second boy I kissed shook when I looked at him and we never quite got used to our thirteen-year old bodies touching. I don’t remember exactly how or why we broke up, but it’s been years and we still haven’t spoken.
The third boy I kissed was eighteen and he had chapped lips and cigarette-stained fingers that left me shuddering when he touched me. When he leaned in for a kiss, we bumped foreheads and laughed. “Is this your first kiss?” he asked. My voice shook when I said no.
The fourth boy I kissed was seventeen and tasted like her, but when I drunkenly leaned in and pressed my lips against his, he did not object. We spent many nights kissing in the darkness after that, but the 6AM sunlight eventually started a fire between us; I was the only one who got burnt.
The fifth person I kissed was a girl and coincidentally, my best friend. We were fifteen and our throats burned from alcohol that we pretended we didn’t hate the taste of. I think I told her she was a bad kisser. We aren’t best friends anymore.
The sixth boy I kissed was my best friend’s boyfriend. He leaned in and had his lips against mine before I could object. I still feel guilty.
The seventh boy I kissed had five years on me. I did not like the feel of his beard scratching against my face or his hands on my waist. I did not close my eyes. When he calls me back, I don’t answer.
This poem comes from the incredibly talented heartofthebitter-mindofapoet!
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