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Jan 2017
In the inky darkness around the bed,
you lit a cigarette next to me, while
I followed the orange glow with dozy eyes.
Kissing me after, with a smoker's mouth,
somehow, the coppery smoke tasted sweeter on your lips
than on any of the others' and we fell into fitful sleep,
your unknown body molten against mine.
In the morning I left,
strangely smug at my non-achievement,
and walked home in yesterday's clothes,
in heels that moulded to last night's blisters.
Unsure of etiquette, sure in my autonomy
I left nothing: no name, no number.
But as I sit here, a part of me is missing -
never too old for naivety, I thought we had
both taken what we wanted in equal parts.
But, as I desperately try to assemble the jigsaw
and piece together the features of your face,
while your far-off foreign accent melts in my mind,
I realise just how wrong I was.
Emma G
Written by
Emma G
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