I still remember it, I believe it was Autumn. Everything was colder before Winter. So were her lips. It wasn’t magical, it wasn’t rough. It was enough. It was the first and I was another human. She kissed something into my nothingness. The wind blew her hair away from her face, and that’s when I felt my first gust. She kissed Autumn into my eyes, my memories. She was experienced, I knew nothing. It’s been longer than my life as a poet, but it wasn’t special. I think about it all of the time. If I never had that first kiss, I would not be here. A different person, just like that. A meaningless first kiss, but it was sweet. A moth that got too close to the light, in the softest way. She was the first person to set me on fire.
— #604 - @alice-is-vacant, about that first kiss.