What My First Love Taught Me

June 17, 2012
By TimeCouldStopMe BRONZE, Salmon, Idaho
TimeCouldStopMe BRONZE, Salmon, Idaho
4 articles 1 photo 1 comment

Favorite Quote:
"All that is gold does not glitter, not all those who wander are lost."

"I know that life is busy and hard, and that there’s a crushing pressure to just settle down and get a real job and khaki pants and a haircut. But don’t. Please don’t. Please keep believing that life can be better, brighter, broader, because of the art that you make. Please keep demonstrating the courage that it takes to swim upstream in a world that prefers putting away for retirement to putting pen to paper, that chooses practicality over poetry, that values you more for going to the gym than going to the deepest places in your soul. Please keep making art for people like me, people who need the magic and imagination and honesty of great art to make the day-to-day world a little more bearable. And if, for whatever reason, you’ve stopped– stopped believing in your voice, stopped fighting to find the time–start today. - Shauna Niequist, Cold Tangerines

"And those who were seen dancing were thought to be insane by those who could not hear the music."

"You were born crying, so die smiling."

My skin flares up in pinpricks, a wave of goosebumps
I can taste the nostalgia
It's so real, I can almost reach out
Run my fingers underneath it
Like water from a faucet

I bury my face in the welcoming shelf of
Your neck and shoulder
I breathe you in
Our love is so thick, I am swimming through
My affection to reach you

I am aware of you
You're covering me
Like darkness does when it swells over daylight
My heart could not possibly love you any more
It flutters, a butterfly in the depth of my being

I can feel your crooked smile
So sweet that I am almost reduced to tears
Wisps of my hair are tangled around
Your fingers
You place the tuft behind my ear
The tickle of your fingers travels down my spine

My shoulders arch up, like a birds would
In flight
You catch me; cradle me for all I am worth
In the sweet sensation of promise
I am lost,
And I am never coming home

The author's comments:
The sweet, beautiful pain of a first love.

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