You saved me. You took me from a home all hot slaps of noise and a school intense like Heathers. We watched my school uniform burn, you laughing the loudest and longest. You kissed away the stings from sharp words and bare knuckled fingers, blew on my face and cooled angry skin. As first kisses go, not shabby at all, you said.
My first kiss, my first house, all my firsts came at once and made me dizzy. No seconds.
I never got to be sixteen. I gave it up because you saved me. You tell me often enough so it must be true.