Dark, intimidating, scary
Those pale blue eyes
Covered by an orange red dyed cut
Hiding away from everybody and everything
Not trying to be like anyone,
Not trying to “fit”

Elusive and shy was my first impression
By force, soon diminished and replaced
One conversation led to another
And feelings started to change.

He’d caught my eye
With those overly corny flirting remarks,
And that sweet, tentative, toothless smirk.
Looks didn’t matter,
At least not at first.

A friend was all I was,
But he was so much more.

Rejection became my friend,
As the months went by.
Claims of “not good enough” and “can’t bring you down” rang loud
But the things we shared became deeper than ever
Finding one without the other was impossible,
People just assume we were together.

Converse shoes and black sweatshirts,
That was his signature
Along with a new fire engine red dyed crop
Matching his equally fiery personality

His full out laugh was hard to come by,
But he smiled whenever I came around.
His pale skin always found ways to touch a part of me.
We found out our hands fit perfect,
But he still wasn’t mine.

Anyone could see we were more than friends,
But from previous rejection I saw no connection.

A wish was all it took
The third and final one
The obstacles obscuring our path were soon pushed aside.
One letter cemented all the feelings
Read aloud, his voice was husky and soft in my ear
His strong arms wrapped around me tight.

He became my “other half” as the feeling grew warmer
During that cold, snowless winter.
Somehow he managed to do everything right in my eyes.
He was my partner in crime.

There was never a need for conversation,
We both enjoyed the silence and intimacy of that moment.
Soon we could predict reactions, feelings, and thoughts.
So much so that every little romantic gift
Was completely and utterly perfect.

I never thought I’d know love at fifteen,
But I had fallen, helplessly.

Coffee was his thing.
He’d even manage to drink it and hug me simultaneously,
But he always let me drink some.
Always by his locker, it became a morning ritual.
Our own little spot in our own little world
More often than not caught for PDA

He never knew a single song on the radio
Indie rock was his type,
Or early 90s alternative
Mainstream or country just weren’t his forte

That boy managed to become my entire life
In five short months
He was my Romeo, and I, his Juliet
All wrong together, but still
A “perfect fit”

Even after it ends,
A first love never ceases.