I Remember

I rememeber our first kiss,
my drunken suggestion and your hesitant agreement
the beercans out back mark the trail of our begining.
I remember our second kiss,
it almost as awkward as the first-
how fast your heart raced as I pulled your fragile body against me.
I remember the pace of our relationship-
the awkward phases
having to talk our way through our goodnight kisses in your doorway at 4am.
I remember the first time we spoke of sex,
how it had to be done via informal note passing-
how the desire was extingushed by our mutual shyness.
I remember the first time I touched you,
how your breaths gave indication as to the success of my hands,
knowing it was merely a taste of what was to come.
I remember noting when you became a comanion in my consciousness,
being at a social gathering of hundreds of people,
feeling like the luckiest one alive in that you were leaving with me.
I remember the first time we spent the night together,
how innocent the whole incident was-
waking to find you still sleeping with your arm halfway wrapped around me.
I remember our infinity of late nights together-
you wrapped up naked in my blankets-
illuminated in the moonlight so beautifully.
I remember when your steps started retreating-
how you blamed every circumstance but the truth for your regression-
how I sat, in confusion, at a distance.
I remember the phone call which concluded the inevitable-
how I sat in silence with nothing more to say-
you then gone from lover to acquaintence.
I remember crying until my eyes hurt-
"I'll Be" over and over on my stereo-
so content to hate and transfer my hurt to the world.

Sara Adams's Questions:

From what I wrote what does appear to be about? Does it come across as anger or sadness?

Before I Let You Go

Upon our uniting no contracts nor oaths were taken-
I never conveyed that one kiss would obligate you for life,
or asked you to commit to a fairytail romance with a happily-ever-after-
ending
I asked you for only the fairness of honesty.
My anger now stems from not from your rejection,
nor to the confession of your feelings for me and their decay,
but for being lead astray and given only silence to feast on.
Yes, I agreed to take this risk with you,
to dive into uncertainty-
I never agreed to be deceived.

Sara Adams's Questions:

From what I wrote what does appear to be about? Does it come across as anger or sadness?