Y'Poetry UK finalists
by hazel bergeron-stokes
Promised myself to write a letter
with shaking, turning hands
and tobacco stained fingers.
My lips and words, stumbled over themselves
while you bit yours, no words fell out.
Shades of black and blue
mottled your china-white neck,
a conversation not worth having.
You said you liked to lie in your bed, your nest.
You left the house about once a month,
barely there, rush and rapid fading.
I liked to imagine our hands could melt into each other.
We would be still while delicate rain could dance
a performance for our staring eyes.
I was fainting, falling, forgotten.
I still see shades of green and blue
in the eyes I never really knew.
By Hazel Bergeron-Stokes
Year 10, Fortismere School