My First

I saw you sitting

there on the shelf waiting

for me to come caress your

spine from top to bottom.

Holographic words jumping

from your cover like a

marquee for the dinner theatre

known for their cabaret.

As I reached for that first

gentle stroke, he cut my

attention with his scent. Drowning,

I could hear the beckoning of

your shin skin, but my eyes

could no longer see what

my heart burned to hold.

"Excuse me" was his only

response as he took you away

from my longing arms. The

denial of your presence broke me

into catastrophic rage through

the heavy traffic back home.

Comfort food would never heal

the defeat in my soul. That scent

reached for me again as the

anger raced the course of

my spine. Suddenly, in

an elegant bag before my

crushed ego poked the

silver jacket. An Irish cocoa

appeared next to me

without warning. I savored you

throughout the night.

I loved you then, and I

love you now. My first