It wasn't yesterday that you kissed me, but you kissed me in my dream yesterday. The dream was so vivid, a kaleidoscope of teasing brushes and your pair of bright blue eyes, peeking out from a tuft of blond hair. But this morning, when the wind snapped outside my window and tore me out of my dream, I found myself on the other side of the kaleidoscope. Even my frantically clawing hands couldn't hold the memories, which slipped away with the breeze.
I know I am young, you are young, and our lives are long. All my friends have dated, date, and will date dozens of beautiful people. And I would be a bitter liar if I didn't reveal my immense jealousy when my friend since birth picks up another gorgeous girl, his third in a month.
But I just want you to know that I won't forget. When I lay in bed and look at the shadows clawing on my wall, they morph into your caressing fingers. When I wake up in the morning, body pressed tight against my sweat-drowned pillow, I remember the indent my body made pressed against you.
I hope I don't see you ever again, because if I do, you'll fish out the memories I've drowned in a sea of Mountain Dew-laced tears. And so, I hope God will open this letter, and twist his divine strings to uncross our paths.
But even if I only clung on to a wisp of your memory, it's padlocked and duct-taped, sealed completely in the hole I drilled in my heart. Because when I'm dating my first girlfriend or boyfriend, when I lay next to my spouse on our wedding night, when I'm an old man sitting alone on a porch, I'll think back to my first kiss. That terror and astonishment and delight and passion wrapped into one firm touch.
And so, thank you. Thank you for giving me this first kiss, to set the spark of desire in my heart for love and kindness. And I hope that one day, preferably soon, I'll find someone to replace you. But for now, cuddling my kitten will have to do.