Ever so nervous was I that night,
trying to steal my very first kiss
so young, scared and nervous was
Afraid that my lips would stick
to hers, so my tongue had taken
notice to stay, I know she wanted
mine on hers.
The color of our cheeks were
crimson, the build up was sublime
our minds were reckless and
then some, knowing we had to
meet, to treat this heat, and
passion we both felt for each
other was golden.
The night grew to us, as we to it
where do we meet for this kiss,
under protest of a dim light to
silhouette us under the moon
deep like the French tongue?
or just a slow and dry peck
like a drunken woodpecker
out of sync, and confused.
Our eyes contact, we give
the look, we tilt our heads
and slowly caress, our hot
wet waiting lips over the
smooth wet texture of skin
on skin, wet and juicy are
we lost in our very first kiss.
Copyright 2012 by Vincent Moore all Rights Reserved.