First kisses always taste like
new beginnings and last kisses
always taste of regret.
When I was younger my mother
took me outside while it rained
and we danced and spun and
that was the day that I realized
what beauty truly was because
the rain on my skin felt like
butterflies kissing the tips of the flowers and
my mother’s laughter sounded like
the bells that give angels their wings.
When I first met The Boy Who Always Smiled
he said my name like it tasted like cinnamon
and I memorized the inflection in his voice when
he spoke to me and painted a portrait of it,
stowed it away in the back of my mind and
pulled it out whenever the bright yellow sun
took refuge behind the clouds because
I knew he’d tasted enough pain on his tongue
to know (whether I believed it or not) that I
was something sweet.
The first time I saw The Girl Who Powered Through
it had been three years, her hair had grown back in
thin and wispy, covered by a pink ballcap and she sat alone.
Today she is my best friend and she tells me how she wants
my strength and my confidence but she is the bright yellow sun
peeking through the clouds and I am showered daily in her light.
The first time my heart was broken by a boy
with an attention span that could be broken like glass
and promises easily torn like paper, I stayed on the phone for hours
with a friend, pacing back and forth in my backyard
recounting every word he said and wondering what I’d done wrong.
But then I looked up and realized that the sky was
as blue as I’d ever seen it and I realized that my tears were only good for
watering the pretty green grass beneath my toes.
Each day I look around me to such beautiful people
and I realize that the world is a beautiful place.
There is sadness and injustice but there is always beauty.
The world is a place of first loves, first steps, first kisses.
First kisses always taste like new beginnings
and last kisses always taste like
something better coming along.