First Love

We exchanged an electrified glance,
heartbeat pounding at a connection so fast.
You gave me rides I needed,
and we conversed at parties,
friendly, warm, studying each other.

You left town for the west coast
and I just let you go, we hadn't had sex,
it was easy.
You came back and claimed me, first with a concert, your mouth,
then with your body.

Shimmering heat rose between us
on those summer nights while we explored
to boundaries we hadn't found.
I moved to your apartment, started college,
helped with your homework, dyslexia, made your lunches.

Home from work, you and I came together,
gleefully naked, senses alert, smelling, licking, straddling,
sucking, delving, caressing, tasting, slick, sliding.
Sleep came mid-night, waking, a quickie,
back to school and work for the long days.

Weekends were celebrations of sensual amusement;
music, pool, pot, drinking, laughing with friends at the bar.
Addiction crept into me, I got lost in alcohol, flunked out of college,
went to a treatment center.
You wrote me letters and quoted Shakespeare.

Guilt came between us, I couldn't excuse myself, drunken brawls loomed.
You forgave me, I didn't understand.
Our vigor started slipping away, I consumed my massive regret,
had no hunger for you.
We stopped, I moved to the city.

Missing our heat, we stayed in touch, tried again,
electric shock of failure surged through us.
Our journey over,
you made one last call telling me you were getting married,
promising not to speak to me ever again at her request.