First draft, not sure where it goes from here. Got talking today about being an awkward teen and this came along. Softly sentimental – I may be coming down with something.
I’m aware of you. Just to say;
your stride is a stretch for me,
the buttons on your coat are loose,
you catch the bus to college.
You stand as tall as me. It’s a guess;
we haven’t been that close.
The ex you dated through school
was short and fat. I’m unkind.
I know you write. Sad, brittle verse.
Our first conversation’s confused;
turns around a book I never had
but then I knew I needed.
My best friend’s birthday; eighteen.
Drunken, silly, happy. Knowing.
Cleverer than we’ll ever be again
four of us watch in the dawn.
You held my hand that night,
my heart still, just a little.
My mind remains my own
but you walk me home.
And we kiss in the daylight. For ever.
By the crumbling works bus stop.
You’re warm and strong; gentle.
Complicated, like life itself.
That kiss is clumsy; perfect.
On the walk from the George,
through that heatwave summer,
we’ll have our time to practise.
Soap’s scent on your skin,
the way you say my name,
your hand on my arm.
Your smile; these remain.