For Victoria, a Friend

[UselessBlueprint]

Her first kiss was with a cigarette
singeing a hole through her shirt,
sparking a fire in the small of her back
as she rolled in a field with a boy
fumbling at the clasps of her bra,
drunk and nervous and laughing 
with their breaths forming clouds
for the moon to shine through.

She told me the story the day we met,
and I wished I was the boy 
until the day she died, and I realized 
what might have been lost.

I can't help but feel like I've read this before. Have you posted this here before, or something similar? I've got nothing to give in a line-by-line, but just a few comments.
Imagery carries the first eight lines quite well. The mostly consistent line lengths gives it a pretty static rhythm, very musical, which I expect for you. It works well for those first eight lines, again, helping to carry the reader through them. The last four, however, feel as if they lack any weight between the words. They say what they say, and I can't get anything more but the rhetoric of the final "what might have been".