DRUGS Poem: The First Time, by Joely Williams

They don’t tell you
that the first time
doesn’t always look like the movies.
No neon rave,
no smoky rebellion.
Sometimes,
it’s an older cousin
saying,
“Come on, just hit it,”
at a party
in a shipping container
in some stranger’s backyard-
the music too loud,
the stars too quiet,
your heartbeat
pretending not to panic.

“You’ll like how this one feels.”
And you believe them
because trust wears the same cologne as safety
and fear takes a backseat
when you’re already empty.

It didn’t taste like poison.
It didn’t scream “danger.”
It whispered,
relief.

Warmth bloomed behind my eyes
like the world finally exhaled with me.
I thought,
Damn… this is what quiet feels like.

No fireworks,
just the sound of silence
finally being gentle.

They don’t tell you
how fast that silence
starts talking back.
How comfort becomes a hook,
and suddenly,
you’re chasing the echo
of a first time
that never comes back.