the summer of our content

we used an old, pilled hand towel to place under me

laid on a white leather couch inside my AC-ridden basement

we promised each other to wait until both of us turned fifteen

our young love formed with soccer balls on pavement

my sunburnt, sticky body happily opened up for you

sweat from your hands and curled temple dripped over us

i only felt pressure but when you were done i knew

it was worth running home and skipping the bus

the summer of our content emerged a bright, new red like

that fluid in the rag and my skin you kept touching tenderly

this gesture without words was you asking if i was alright

how sweet it was to share with a best friend losing my virginity

those days in my house or in your yard under the sun felt eternal

my first love, you, now only exist inside my journal