I’ve been writing again. Or rather, editing something I submitted for my creative writing module last term:

Lasting Impressions

Barefoot in the summer

we danced fairy circles into the grass,

wearing oversized “you’ll-grow-into-them” t-shirts

and freckled skin.

We filled a rainbow of water balloons

at your garden tap, silver ribbons

weaving around our wrists

and pooling in the dents of our elbows.

Now you dye your hair packet purple.

You wear short dresses and patterned tights,

and sometimes I don’t even recognise you

behind your daytime face.

But I still have that mix tape you made me,

and your once-favourite poem

is inscribed on the inside of my skull

in indelible ink.

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