A list of dates I wish I'd had, and why I'm still lonely.

by Charlotte Begg

A list of dates I wish I’d had, and why I’m still lonely.

We cut ghost eyes out of sheets

and hide in corners of our library.

 

We make new blends of tea for the pot;

jasmine notes steam our glasses.

 

We walk around the castle wall,

speaking in strange bird song or flowers.

 

We draw maps of favourite places,

folding ourselves into boats that trace the other’s markings.

 

We smash harbour glass with given stones,

kissing when starlings disperse.

 

We find the coast and walk into the sea, reappearing in the Winter sun,

baptised with crowns of blackberries, names changed.

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