Spiked like the cherry punch

at my senior prom, slower than

Sunday afternoon in the Delta,

and softer than a kitten’s sigh but

with a kick like your Papaw’s shotgun —

leaving me with the sweetest

hangover that flat-out would

not let go.

That’s what my first kiss

was like.

SusanWritesPrecise
storyblocks.com

7 thoughts

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