My first kiss was in a tree. Living in Oklahoma, my first kiss was on a sweltering summer day. I don’t know why I kissed him, because I hated him. But we kissed a lot after that first kiss. We were both twelve and he was my brother’s best friend.  I always hated this kid; he was kind of a bully. He would set dumpsters on fire and have my brothers jump in and put them out. He would break into empty houses and smash light bulbs and mirrors. I don’t know why we were hanging out that day, I don’t remember. But the two of us were in this tall tree; it was a tall old pecan tree that I loved to climb. I would spend all my hours up in its branches, most likely reading or staring at the clouds (I did that way too often). We were talking about whatever kids talk about and I leaned over and kissed him, nearly falling out of the tree in the process. Then we kissed a lot in that tree… and in front of my brothers, and my father; in front of my best guy friend (who I loved), all the time… For about three weeks. Then we just kind of stopped, like we’d never kissed. He was the same to my brothers as always, the same to me as he’d been before. It was like we’d all just forgotten.

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<3 Wrath

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    Things I may tell you while we're hiding from zombies or stuck on a small boat or locked in a closet together... You probably don't really wanna know. 


    September 2013