The Moment Home Readings Buy the Book About The Moments

Denied Kisses

This doesn't make me a lesbian

I am fourteen.

She is seventeen.

I am young and unsure.

She's young and equally unsure.

Dark, danky bathroom of a Catholic all girls school.

Oppression heavy between us.

Slowly we move.

Lips tenatively meet.

Her's are soft and satiny and taste like sugar.

Mine are chapped and cracked and taste like coffee.

She wraps an arm around my waist. I bury my fingers into her curly mane.

Footsteps.

We pause, collective breaths held.

The footsteps become softer as they move farther away.

She kisses me again.

I kiss her back.

She drags her teeth across my lip.

My hands traces the curve of her waist.

We fit together so perfectly in that one moment. I want to cry.

It's the first time in a long time I feel accepted.

She pulls away. Stares at me and says.

"This doesn't make me a lesbian."

I nod, not trusting myself to say anything. Her words no longer knife my heart. She is beautiful. I know that boys trail after her.

I wish boys would look at me like that.

I wish girls would look at me like that too.

She kisses me once more soundly before assuring me of her sexuality one last time.

I'm standing alone.

She may not be a lesbian.

But I realize that I'm bisexual.

Comments

No comments yet, why not leave one of your own?



Leave a Comment or Share Your Story

Please Sign In. Only community members can comment.

The Moment Book

Moments from the SMITH Community

Tomorrowland "Daisy, F3," my son Archer says as we pull into our parking spot. Disneyland’s about to open and we've arrived, just the two of us, our last hoorah before school starts. *** The alarm goes off and I pull the pillow tightly over my head. My husband, Hal, offers to wake the kids so I roll over, fall back asleep until Archer's voice wakes me, this time for good. "Hi, Mommy. It's …
Line Break
With Both Hands Whenever I think of my mother, my mind flips to this story. Not to the whole story, but right to the middle of it, the worst moments of it. For me, that's where the story always starts. My mother was beating the hell out of me. The first few blows seemed to come from every direction as I grabbed my nightgown and pulled it over my head, not …
Line Break
Reasons to be Thankful By Robert Israel They scraped me off the street, my bicycle in a heap nearby, and ever so gingerly placed me on the gurney. A crowd of curious onlookers watched intently, thankful they were not being loaded onto the ambulance. The nurses at the hospital were calming as nurses are wont to be, and administered an intravenous tube of morphine, and soon everything around me became fuzzy and numb, and the …
Line Break
Read More Community Moments →
 
SMITH Magazine

SMITH Magazine is a home for storytelling.
We believe everyone has a story, and everyone
should have a place to tell it.
We're the creators and home of the
Six-Word Memoir® project.