First Kiss Poem


Is it meant to be like this?

Two faces are pushed together 

and we call it a kiss?

Two tongues are mushed and squished,

back and forth,

forth and back.

My sweaty palms reach 

for his body to balance myself

but I still feel unstable.

There’s so much going on

but 

still not enough.

My moment hasn’t arrived,

no sparks ignited,

I try and feel for some butterflies but

it seems as though they’ve all died.

The fireworks lay sleeping like my heart,

I listen out for a beat but she is still

still.

silent.

distracted.

I don’t really like this?

But it seems he does and he wants more.

Maybe I’m just immature

or maybe I’m just unsure

There’s a first time for everything but also a second,

third, fourth, fifth.

I feel like there should be something more

but every time I fall short.

My love does not grow, instead the only thing increasing

is the pressure from being around him.

He asks for a walk.

It’d be nice to talk.

However the only movement from his lips come from leaning 

towards mine.

I guess I’m not good enough for a simple conversation

and so this continues.

And so my insecurities stay sealed to my lips

where I believe they belong.

Useful.

Only to be voiced later on to an unsympathetic ear.

Confused as I am

when I question.

Is it meant to be like this?

By Phoebe Wiseman.