This is the poem I told you I had written, but had been reluctant to bring to you. Somehow it just doesn't seem good enough. The rest of what I have to say is difficult for me to put into poetry, for a poem requires order and form and what I need to say is somehow chaotic, without rhyme or reason.

     Once you were my first kiss. This may be a thing of the long forgotten past to you, I don't know, but to me its memory will live forever and your beauty remain a brand upon my heart. I am not claiming you were my "first love," for there were crushes and infatuations before I ever got to meet you. But you were the one to reach out to touch my soul, to burn the image of an innocent kiss steeped in shy romance and passion into my deepest being indelibly.

     You say I need to move slow and though this pains me, it is only hurtful because I am unsure whether this is really the crux of what you mean. For if you truly wish that we take things slowly and yet be sure that a bond is developing, that things could indeed lead to a beautiful relationship, then I give you all the aeons of time we could need. But if you only say this in order to somehow let me down easy, to delay a desire to tell me to leave you alone, then moving slow is only more hurtful.

     This may seem out of place, but I love you. I love you with the brand new nebulous sort of love that comes upon one at first sight, and I love you with the faded glory of ancient love that attends fond memories. I cannot say I love you with the comfortable ease that comes with familiarity or the intense connection of intimacy. I cannot say I truly know who you are after ten years. But in the ways I love you, I love you fair and true. There is nothing wrong with the way I feel, and I dream now that maybe the girl who was my first kiss could be my last.