Carole’s Note: Bittersweet. Lovely poem.
I only kissed you once.
We were drunk
and the sidewalk called our feet to dance
and you pulled me by my arms
into the middle of the street,
held me like it was our wedding day
and we danced
in the silence
of our heart beating.
You had watermarks on your skin
that reminded me
you belonged to someone else,
but you kissed me anyway.
I wanted to be the rule you break.
I’d given anything to be the secret you hide
in the palms of your hands,
to sneak into your bedroom
at 4 in the afternoon
and watch cheesy 1980s movies with you.
I wanted that kind of love,
the one that street art on my skin
with its name signed under each picture
so I can know it was here.But by the time you sobered up the next morning,
I knew there was no chance of that ever happening,
so I held my own hands home
and forgot to leave my scent behind.
That’s probably why you don’t remember me.
Source : buttholepoetry
I'm 19.