Back to My First Love

My first love, 
you were planting kisses
with your tender lips 
along my jawline,
in the shade of your garden, 
on the shore of the river,
when I heard about a party
in the city,
on the sandy beach 
with cafés, 
lights, and music . . .

I applied my makeup
ready to go out and shine
like your bright star
but you looked at me, 
and said with sadness:
“You won’t go out like this!”
I still went.
Without you.

I was walking 
along the promenade,
alone, happy to be free, 
yet missing your steady hand. 
My dress was too long
and my walk awkward
so I lifted it up,
exposing my legs 
I straightened my spine
like a model.

Soon I caught 
the men’s haughty glances 
palpating my appearance 
with sinful thoughts,
swiping away 
my wondering spirit
from the solid ground 
to the restless sea, 
nauseating me. 

Oh no, no, no!
I turned my face away
from the tempting horizon
and allowed my long tresses 
to weave like sails 
back to the safeguarding kisses
of the one and only,
back to you, my love.
Thank you for reading. God bless!