When You Kissed Me In Front Of The Subway

This was the second time someone kissed me in front of the subway entrance. The first time, after another first date, I thought, “Wow this is so sweet.” And I kept that thought, for months.

And then came this.

The first time I kissed someone outside of a subway station, I was freaking out. I was freaking out about who would see us, who needed to get by, and someone pushing to ruin the moment. I was kissing him, but I was worried about the world.

And then came this.

Tonight, a first date turned into six hours. Six hours turned in something, I know it. Six hours led to being myself, laughing without checking my hair, and hoping you’d ask for part two before leaving.

And then came this.

I’ve kissed someone by the subway before. It was hurried and rushed, as sweet as it tasted. I’ve kissed someone by the subway before. I knew I wasn’t going to be the one to him. But I still kissed him in front of the 6.

And then came this.

I kissed someone in front of the subway for the second time. And this time, the world slowed down. The city slowed down. New York City closed down. I didn’t care about the world around me. This was where I needed to be, and everyone else didn’t make sense. So if they came and if they shoved, my mind didn’t think of it.

And then came this.

Then came this kiss.

Then came this kiss that ruined everything. It wasn’t in front of the 6. It was in front of the R/W, and that literally didn’t matter. All that did matter is that this kiss mattered, and that God, I wanted to kiss you again.

Can I kiss you again?