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Mama, gardener, teacher, photographer, faffer with paint and colour

Saturday, 29 August 2015


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.