Discovered beer together, you and I,
And stupified and sluggish we collapsed
On your queen-sized bed at ten p.m.
"Feels like floating," you said. I agreed.
Your mother would be home in seven days,
Your dad had died four months before your birth.
Your older sister peeked in once, but saw
Just simple friends, two girls asleep in bed.
I pulled my eyelids open (it was hard)
And checked my watch to see we'd missed the night.
5 a.m. was early, I wished I wasn't up.
Looked up, noticed you had woke as well.
We'd slept without a sheet, and snuggled close
While dreaming of confusing colors, shapes.
Your face an inch from mine, your blue eyes wide,
Like you were shocked at events as yet to come.
And if you'd told me what you'd had in mind,
I guess I would have looked surprised as well.
Instead you gambled everything we shared,
And moved your face that inch of childhood left.
Sticky lip gloss.
With fake peach smell.
Often shared, but
never this way(!).
Eyes still open.
Fear (but good fear).
Hands encourage;
I keep at it.
The flavored lip gloss went straight to my head.
Got me more drunk than beer ever did.
I pressed my lips to yours until they hurt,
And hugged you, scared of being swept away.
As seconds passed I wanted more, and laughed
When pop! your squirming tongue slipped by my lips.
I'd done this once before this, with a boy,
But he was clumsy and his kiss was too.
Your room was classic teenage-girl-style mess,
A mound of dirty laundry by the bed.
And when we got each other's soft consent,
We added still-warm clothing to the pile.
this is for the masque.