Fourteen years I waited.
Taunted by the promise in prose,
Teased by the moving pictures …
Two years later,
I'm still waiting.
I never had that moment:
The sudden amnesia of self and surroundings,
The hoard of butterflies bombarding my stomach.
No fireworks, no music, not even pristine silence.
I'm still waiting
For that perfect moment
When his lips first touch mine.
Taunted by the promise in prose,
Teased by the moving pictures …
Two years later,
I'm still waiting.
I never had that moment:
The sudden amnesia of self and surroundings,
The hoard of butterflies bombarding my stomach.
No fireworks, no music, not even pristine silence.
I'm still waiting
For that perfect moment
When his lips first touch mine.
This piece has been published in Teen Ink’s monthly print magazine.
xLoVeLyCuTiEe428x
TheseBrownEyes
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