To me, was
The one I saw on Disney’s Sleeping Beauty, and the idea that my very first would be as magical as hers. It’s what I would watch my mother give my father in the living room when he would come home from the store with chocolates and flowers, just for her.
It was what I wanted from my crush in third grade,
And it’s also what he didn’t want to give to me.
As I got older, life became a little more complicated, and so did my idea of a kiss;
It was something you gave someone you were in love with. It’s what Mike did to Rachel in the back of the gym, and the more complicated version of it is called “making out”. Why is it even called that? What do you make, and why does it go out?
Because based to the massive amounts of romance novels I had read, the first kiss was really important. Apparently you were supposed to feel all sorts of mystical fire-like sensations that left you dizzy and incoherent.
It was something I would daydream about,
And it was also something I began to think that I didn’t deserve.
A handful of years later, a kiss became
Something that I believed I’d never have. People around me would give them at parties like handing out spare pieces of candy, conveniently pointing at drunken stupor as an excuse. It was something that everyone did, except for me. I thought that no one wanted to ever one give to me, so in self-loving denial and bitterness, I thought; why should I be so eager to give it away?
It was locked up in a box that I’d open only for someone I loved,
And I also decided to throw away the key.
Given that time had taken us to present bliss, let me tell you what a kiss to me now is,
It’s a peek into my secret garden, a river of love and loss I try to not let overflow.
It is aged wine I kept for too long in my cabinet; past refined. It’s a moment of intertwined vulnerability; exciting, imperfect, human. It is still something I’ve never done, but it is definitely something I will do.
It is the prize to the key you found (and I threw)
It’s also what I’m going to give
Flashback to previous entry –> Letters to X: The Small Moments that Save Us