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.