i hope my words are strange and wondrous,

like kisses that quiet all things superfluous,

so that we can all stop and

listen

that came first.

first friends

first loves

first times...

i'm beginning to think they shouldn't matter as much,

at least

i'm beginning to see the value of the lasts.

the firsts came by chance,

a right recipe of circumstance and opportunity

they're precious because they are wondrous in their existence,

absurd in the way we take them for granted,

and full of what-ifs that never came to fruition.

the lasts though,

are a result of intention and love,

they are beautiful in the reaching out of soul to soul,

fueled by a rare honesty, purposeful entwining of

hearts in which you come out saying,

"you are the last, because you are enough to satisfy my wandering soul"

i think i've exhausted almost all my firsts,

which is sad but inevitable.

the last few i have left,

the last few firsts that remain untouched,

i think i'll save those for my last.