The First Time

She wanted me

I sensed that

fact, but

 

“Remember, how it was

the first time?”

 

“Remember, how special it was

how nervous, we were

how sweet the

memory?”

 

I tend to say, and do

all of the wrong things,

having constantly to apologize

for being the me that I am

 

She took me by the hand

and looked into my eyes,

and the doubt that had followed me

like a shadow on my memory

faded to light

in the noonday sun,

 

That what you are

and what, I am

are things that we don’t need

to apologize for,

 

They are all just parts of what makes us

what we are,

 

Now kiss me you silly fool,

before you put your foot in your mouth

again…

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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