Peach

That summer

we pushed each other off pavements. 

a lot.

denim jackets -our shield against all that wasn’t us

yelling our boredom in the park

swearing loudly in the bus station

(me blushing at the furious mum skirted by her children)

walking the streets

sitting on walls

larking about

friendship

desire 

longing

waiting

confusion

i wanted him

he wanted her

we punched each other’s arms

laughing in pain

he called me a peach

i beamed 

soft skin 

smelling warm

summer ripe

later 

i realised he meant

i bruised easily.