By Ria
Date: 4 May 1999

Something About the Boy

The first
  (and only)
time we kissed
is but a hazy memory
lurking in the back of my head
  (like a forgotten dream)
I'd like to blame it
on the vodka
that I drank with
a little too much liberty
  (and not nearly enough juice)
Your lips tasted like wine
and felt like raw silk
  (but that could've been my imagination)
cool against mine
as I greedily swallowed 
the air that escaped your mouth
  (because I couldn't seem to breathe)

The vodka
  (and the hangover)
didn't change my mind 
about you
  (or your kisses)
but you rushed to apologize
hoping you hadn't offended me
with your overzealous
  (delicious)
mouth and your drunken
  (charming)
ways...

If only I didn't 
enjoy it so much
  (perhaps too much)
and if only I didn't
want to kiss you
again...
  (apology not accepted)