Has anyone kissed you?

"No," I said.

I quickly changed my answer,

When I felt the tip of his tongue invade my lips.

Has anyone kissed you?

"No," I lied.

That first one didn't count.

That first one didn't count, I repeat within my head.

But I feel my answer changing,

when I feel a force push me forward behind my neck.

Has anyone kissed you?

"Yes," I reply.

Those two didn't count though.

Those two didn't count, I repeat within my head.

It didn't seem to matter though,

What answer I gave in the end.

Has anyone kissed you?

I don't say a word.

Instead, I remain silent.

Not speaking at the question.

Why did they need to know?

What difference did it make?

Why was it always this same question,

That they so painstakingly took the time to speak?

I wish they replaced it with 'can I,' instead.

I wish they thought of that.

Instead of seeing who came before,

Instead of seeing if they were the first, second or last.

But whatever answer I gave them.

It seemed it wouldn't have mattered,

What word came out. 

-world_joy_

©world_joy_