Like a high school heartthrob,
planting kisses on the other girls’
cheeks
time and time
again,
I watch it brush past me
as if I blend in with the cinderblock
behind me.
It is close enough to reach out and
grab its hand.
Much like a schoolgirl,
I’m too nervous to try.
It once kissed me years ago
and tasted like flat soda:
sugary and sweet,
but a waste without the bubbles,
my craving left unsatisfied.
I guess for now,
I’ll separate my lips to tell
white lies with my teeth,
allowing the other girls to think
that it too, plants kisses on my cheek
time and time
again.
Kirsten Magas is a fourth-year English major with minors in creative writing and journalism. KM867219@wcupa.edu