Our lips first connected in a place immersed in death. I did meet you in a bar, as boring and stereotypical as it sounds. However, I first kissed you in a graveyard, so I’m hoping that cancels out the clichéd introduction. Yet, I’ve been wondering about our premier kiss—was it a sign of painful things to come? I had invited you to take a late-night walk there. Such a brave woman, but I thought even you might be unnerved in a cemetery. I wanted you a little freaked out, and if I was lucky, a tad clingy. And, you were. And, it worked. You kissed me leaning next to a statue of a weeping angel. My mouth held onto your first kiss so long, my lips were numb, and I couldn’t imagine anything else feeling as good. I was wrong.
Cancer Lyric R
Bekah Steimel is a poet whose work has been published globally. Recent poems have appeared in Impossible Archetype, the Stray Branch, and Picaroon Poetry. She lives in St. Louis, Missouri, and can be found online at bekahsteimel.com and followed on Twitter and Instagram @BekahSteimel.