My untouched lips fidgeted
as I looked into her big eyes that fluttered
like blue jays, staring back at mine.
She drew me in as she played with my hands,
but it wasn’t until late that night,
sitting on my couch, that we tried
to make the pieces fit.

She listened to my throbbing heart intently,
her head resting on my chest,
caging me in the moment.
Her wordless insistence on waiting
was an almost cruel anticipation
that I had no desire to escape.

Then she laid her head directly next to mine.
Not even a finger would have fit between us.
I could feel the feathers of her eyes
flying across my face every time
her impatience gazed at me.
She expected the rookie to make the first move.

“Fuck it!” I thought,
and I kissed her.
It was sloppy, and it was messy,
as our lips failed to properly unite,
like pieces of an unsolvable jig-saw puzzle
being crammed together.
Hindsight would know the ordeal was terrible,
but in that moment, it was wonderful.

She was beautiful, she was willing,
and she was happily mine, so her birdsong went.
But I was just another boy in line to her,
made apparent to me as she flew off,
leaving me behind in her cage.