I’ll never be able to listen to The Beatles without remembering the first time.

You were short,
The shortest boy i’d dated.
But your adult-like charm stole my heart.

We lived near one another,
We had friends in common.
So, when you’re 14 that seems like a good start.


Time has passed,
So I’m not sure
How long we’d been together until it all lead to that day.

A few months
That seems about right. 
Remembering the times we went over to your house to play.


14 was young,
But where we’re from, 
it was pretty normal to drink.

Those younger years
Where you would inhale almost anything
Until your cheeks or puke would turn pink.


I don’t remember much,
Except the late night discussions
Of who would sleep in which bed.

You wanted me
To come into yours.
I was scared but from the drinks my brain was dead.

So I did.
My first wake up call from a boy.
Yet not an alarm I’d set, nor one i’d hoped for.

I closed my eyes.
I told you no. What are you doing. Stop.
But you didn’t. Grunting like a wild boar.


My  first.
My first of many disappointments.
My first of many times where it was simply easier to take it.
My first of many times feeling like that’s all i have.
My first of many times wondering how the fuck he can be having fun.
My first of many times closing my eyes and waiting for it to stop.


My first.
And from today on. My last.

Julia Bell
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