First

It’s a little strange reflecting on firsts,
When thinking about lost seconds,
With the boy that came before the third.

My mind goes through the broken promises;
The unrealised dreams, big and small;
And the small lies that turned into great whites.

I wish I could say the secrets weren’t a first—
That they didn’t turn into gratifying betrayals
That he considered a friendship… without labels.

I wish I could say I’ve already had some firsts,
Like receiving Valentine’s Day flowers from my beau
But as it seems, I am still waiting for them.

I have yet to dance in the rain with my lover,
Under the warm city streetlights of my home,
To the shared song we both adore.

But can I really say love exists when I’ve failed twice,
Once with a faithless face who faded into the crowd,
And again, with two who lied about who they are?

I am still eager to experience a concert’s highs
In the moshpit of melodic and rhythmic ecstasy
Rather than that woman sharing such joys with him.

I would have liked to say I’ve celebrated together,
One of my favourite festivities—the Lunar New Year,
Because it reveals so much of who I am culturally.

Can I really enjoy God’s creation with my loved one—
Will I be able to fly overseas like all my other friends
Without the desperation of begging to do such a thing?

Is it even possible to find someone who puts me first,
Seeing that I am just a girl who wants to be loved,
And desiring to be more than a placeholder to another?

I wish I could say that I learnt my lesson from my first,
But the soundtrack to the second slowly turned back,
And I desperately hope the third will not be the same.