That night, what I wanted,
I didn't get.
What I was not expecting,
Happened.
Behind the blur of vodka shots,
I saw that the clubs were dead.
Oh, I know I cannot make
This night sound beautiful
And elegant- but it was real.
I was braver, I spoke to
People I had admired for so long.
And when the opportunity came,
I took it.
Even though it was orchestrated;
They put us in a corner.
"Kiss"
They said.
But we did.
Over and over again.
I tried to remember the feeling for myself-
But it was just movement
I cannot hide my embarrassment
But it was also fun.
Is this what I have been missing?
That was my first kiss.
Life is not romantic and made of metaphors;
It is cruel and
Cold and harsh.
Only through suffering can we become better people.
And love is only unrequited
Because what you want
You cannot have.
YOU ARE READING
Petrichor
PoetryWe grow old eventually {here are the waking thoughts that consume me}