The Kiss I Poem by Yvonne Iversen

No sweet words were spoken,
not that day.
It was warm,
still I froze.

He stepped over and
leaned over,
supported by the door frame.
Close to me.

So close that when he closed his eyes,
I almost fell asleep.
So close.
That his hand on my chest was my hand.

Straight forwardly,
without complexities.
Nor pride.
I said I didn’t know any other way than this.

I could smell his breath,
the scent that lingered in the air.
A taste of peppermint,
while his soft lips touched mine.