Ode to my first

She was always my favorite –

I’ve heard people say your first love is when
Your brain flings out of the stratosphere,
And you hallucinate hearts dancing around
Her body, singing a joyous tune in 
A gibberish language spoken by the love struck.
You believe you can fly because your 
Heart leaves your body and begs to her,
“Please, choose me, see me, love me!”
Pleading that her own slumps out of her
Chest cavity with a grin and agrees. 

You swoon over her like a drunken tree branch
On the road less taken. The brambles leaving
Warnings of heartbreak with each little scrape
As you rush to see the end of the journey. 
The adrenaline pumping through your veins 
On a permanent sugar rush from the 
She-smiled-at-me-and-now-I-need-to-kiss-her
Berries you ate along the way. 

You try to get her attention to the double rainbow
That hovers over you like a halo. 
She will never have one of her own, and it’s
The thought that when it rains she will only
Have a clear sky instead of colors guiding her
That haunts your newly shattered dreams.
You mourn over this for her, and for yourself –
You mourn the thought that she can't find 
The end of roygbiv path with you. 

You get over her after a few years, but the 
Sparkle lingers in the back of your brain
When you see someone that impersonated 
Her every perfection.

She will always be my favorite.