My First

Dear My First Kiss,

You shouldn’t have happened.

That night at the mall,

In a dressing room stall.

It shouldn’t have happened.

It was a social obligation—

Something for loneliness to use as compensation.

It shouldn’t have happened.

I thought it was love.

No, it was fear:

Fear that I wasn’t “enough”,

Fear that I wasn’t capable of love.

I was scared.

I was naive.

I asked for you to take the lead,

Hoping that we’d be more than just a “thing”.

It was all in the moment.

It felt like a blur.

As our lips moved with “passion”,

I felt more insecure.

This wasn’t love.

It was just a fling.

No matter how many times I said “stop”,

He kept continuing.

I was tired of being alone.

I thought this was the right choice.

It was when he covered my mouth,

I no longer had a voice.

When it was all done and over with,

I didn’t know what to do.

A week later he texted me,

Bidding me adieu.

It’s been 3 months.

He’s now back with his ex.

I’m still alone

Wondering what’s next.

I don’t regret many things,

But this is one of them.

If only I could turn back time

To before we met.

—Regretful Romantic