The First Time

He kissed me in a way that I had
never known before. Unseen,
a secret, inner door, began to ease
its way to opening. His hand ran
lightly down my arm, taking that
one bend upon the path to utter
being.

And oh, that kiss, brought bliss
to this, the altar of my flesh. Temple
of all life divine, that shines in every
intimate encounter, turning into
flows of love once thought to be
just mine. And so I learned to share
this ecstasy.

Yet I will ne'er forget that tender touch
of flesh upon my breast; e'en now
that he has fled the scene, to seek his
dreams become another life. For then
he dared to enter me complete - and
ever will remembrance seek its dreams
within a past that ever alters everything.

I have crossed that bridge again,
and then again - yet still that first time
lingers to redeem the wrongs he
brought to bear between the two
of us. Yet memory lives on just
in between the right and wrong.

I've walked the path of every virgin,
into arms that pleaded lovingly for our
ascent. Yet the first time, every first time,
ever brings that heaven, bent on our
arrival. Balancing the endless wrongs
that seek to live the in between without
the will or want of our consent.

And still, I miss that touch of tenderness,
that only seems to live within a first. For
then, the tenderness is left behind; sorted
and adjusted to the lifestyles that they choose,
where everyone must win, then lose again.
A game that seems to play itself in them
into the grave, no matter all the love that
they withhold within their hearts.

Now I choose to leave these opposites behind.
For I've been blinded all too many times
by the power that a first touch brings, and
lingering, I find my love still plays through
endless days of living life - opening and closing,
hiding and exposing, the best, the worst,
and all that's in between...

? Michaelette ?

8/25/2001
Copyright© 2001 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
Take me home...