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Poetry posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 

Poem Collection - MythOfHappiness - 5. A Number of Firsts

Nervous

My heart slams into my ribs

Like so many birds

Trapped in my chest

Trying their damndest to escape

 

It kinda hurts

But then,

It kinda feels good too

Which I guess is just

Like everything else

 

There are so many people here

Flowing in and out

Like a river that can’t make up it’s mind

Music (screams) floods out into the street

Something fast and loud

 

Two men walk out holding hands

A couple makes out in the alley

So open

And obvious

It’s strange here

 

I stand still for a moment

Trying unsuccessfully to build up my confidence

Getting myself ready

Or as ready as I can be

I take a step

 

Push my way into the river

Follow the stream through the doors

Everyone smells so sweet

And so sour

With bitter undertones of sweat and booze

 

The music is so loud

Pulsing, drowning out everything

So that you can’t hear yourself think

I suppose that’s intentional

Nobody comes here to talk anyway

 

I elbow my way through the throng

There’s an empty space near the back

I make my way there

Arms and legs swing in relative time

Several people bump into me

 

I sit down on the couch

A gaudy shade of orange

But strangely comfortable

For something made of pleather

And covered in plastic

 

I sit there for a few moments

Just taking it all in

Not really my kind of place

But an interesting experience

Nonetheless

 

A man steps out of the crowd

He stops and looks first left

Then right

His eyes lock on me

And he smiles

 

That smile kicks my nerves back into overdrive

There’s something predatory about it

About him

His teeth are too sharp I think

His eyes too bright

 

He starts walking towards me

I shift my weight

the couch suddenly isn’t so comfortable

He makes it to me and sits

Too close

 

“Hey.”

His voice cuts through the noise

“Hi…”

Mine is so quiet that even I can barely hear it

He smiles again and I shiver

 

His hand is moving

Slowly

Now it’s on my knee

I don’t know what to do

Should I push it off, or pretend it’s not there?

 

I turn to him and start to say something

My lips barely open before his close them again

He’s kissing me aggressively

And I don’t know where to put my hands

And my eyes are open

 

I lean back into the ugly couch

He leans with me

Pressing me into the orange pleather

I think about pushing him away

But it feels strangely good

 

His hands move

Up and down

Tracing my profile

One slips under my shirt

Pushing it up my chest

 

I finally close my eyes

And just feel what there is to feel

And there’s so much

His lips

His hands

 

I don’t know how long

We sit there

When we come up for air

He says something I can’t hear

Over the music and my own heartbeat

 

“What?”

I yell

“You want to get out of here?”

He yells back

Do I?

 

This man has to be at least five years older than me

Probably more

And I know exactly what he wants

And I want it too

But should I?

 

“I… of course I do.”

This makes him smile again

And my heart flutters

In a way that I recognize

And he kisses me again

 

He takes my hand

And guides me back through the writhing mass

In a way that says he’s done this a million times

And I know he has

A million times, a million boys just like me

 

Is this a good idea?

I know what I feel -

Hungry

And I know what I want -

Him

 

But is this safe?

Is it right?

Does it matter?

I’ve wanted this for what feels like forever

But do I want it like this?

 

We flow out the doors

He guides me to a blue jeep

Parked a block away

I climb in

It smells clean

 

That’s a good sign right?

He cleans his car

That must mean he’s safe.

No stupid

All it means is that he cleans his car

 

He starts it up

Some pop song plays on the radio

He turns it off

And we pull away

In silence

 

Everything’s so quiet now

Or maybe it’s just

Everything seems quieter

Without all that music

And noise

 

His hand is back on my knee now

The contact burns my skin

It hurts

But then

It feels good too

 

He pulls into a nondescript parking lot

In front of a red brick apartment building

He climbs out first

Then goes around and opens my door for me

Chivalrous

 

Once I’m out of the jeep

He slams the door

The beep of the automatic locks

Echos over the empty lot

And I have one last second thought

 

I shake it off

It’s not like I can just

End this now

I’ve gone too far

This is going to happen

 

I follow him into the small lobby

Just a grey room with some mailboxes on the wall

He calls the elevator

I watch the number change

Like a countdown of my last seconds

 

That’s a rather morbid thought

Isn’t it?

Sorry it’s the quiet

It’s getting to me

I’m kinda letting it get to me

 

We step into the elevator

He puts his key into the slot

And presses the sixth floor

And I feel that odd sensation of

Movement when everything looks still

 

The number goes up now

He turns to me

That smile again

His too-blue eyes

Glinting in the florescent lights

 

I’m suddenly reminded of my cat

When she comes home with a dead something

And looks so pleased

Those same sharp teeth

And self satisfied eyes

 

Then he kisses me again

And the image melts away

Replaced with the hunger

That never really goes away

I want him. Now.

 

The elevator dings

The doors slide open

He pulls me down the hall

Door number 608

He flips through his keys

 

The door unlocks with a clunk

Like old doors do

And he swings it open

And we kiss our way through the house

Dropping clothes along the way

 

He guides me to the bedroom with his body

And maybe a little too roughly

He pushes me onto the bed

And pulls off his shirt

He’s beautiful

 

He climbs into the bed

Starts taking my clothes off

One by one

I let him

I help him in fact

 

Then when he’s done

I lean in and taste him

His chest tastes like salt

And something like earth

And he smells like grass and sweat

 

The whole thing takes about ten minutes

Afterwards, he jumps out of bed immediately

soon I hear the shower turn on

I am no longer a virgin

And I’m not sure how I feel

 

On the inside that is

Physically I’m sore

And sorta… gooey

And that’s strange

But not as strange as the way that I don’t feel any different

 

I thought after this

That I would be a different person

Or something like that

But I just feel like me

Weird

 

He offers to drive me home

But I just have him drop me off back at the club

It’s not till I’ve walked halfway home

That I realize

I never asked his name

 
Copyright © 2018 MythOfHappiness; All Rights Reserved.
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  • Love 1
Poetry posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 
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You offer us a vivid description. I could not pull my eyes away from the text. The reality you give us - I was just me / weird - was a perfect way to play the reflective music of what transpired. And your coda - never asked his name - still echoes.

  • Love 1
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Engrossing. It's too much to process that experience in the moments after. Will he feel disappointment the next day... it's sad to me that some of us just want to get the big V over with... so much so we ignore the other side... the connection that would make it less surreal and more ... something... very realistic... cheers... Gary....

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A poem once begun, impossible to stop. I wonder if it's real, your reality. No matter, it makes me sad, it meant so little, to the one that took it, than to the one that lost it, as he was so uncaring. I had no choice, when or how, but often wonder what if i had? Would i have felt this way?

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Great storytelling here! I wish a lot of us didn't have the same (or similar) tales to tell, but I think we do.

This was an exciting read, and very well crafted. Thanks for posting.

Edited by AC Benus
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