The first time your lips met mine my spirit knew
just who you were you were…
The Marlboro man I was waiting for all my life
Oh yes, of that I was sure.
I opened my arms and I opened my soul…
I drew you beneath the covers on my four-poster bed
where I found more treasures then my heart could hold.
We giggled and we loved and we snuggled until dawn
beneath the antique chenille bedspread.
The very next morning, I asked you to marry,
“Sure I could see that,” is what you replied.
When you left to go home to get your clothes
for just those few short hours, I felt like I died.
You moved in the next day, maybe too fast
but our passion was burning so high
it was beyond my imagination to think
that such an inferno could ever pass.
Thirty-five years later and still, for you,
my body responds exactly the same
but now I cry myself to sleep.
We are playing on a different field today
anger has driven us to play a different game.
A game I can’t win no matter how hard I strive
each time you make an excuse to pull away
I feel like that first day when you left and
I die and I die and I die…
One thought on “The First Time”
Yes, it surely is sad.