Crushed

This is a piece I wrote for a Positive Words competition, but never submitted because – completely pathetic – I can’t be bothered to go and buy two unused postage stamps and send them off in an actual envelope. Which makes me wonder…now Russians are being forcibly weaned from the internet, will they revert to a Rousseau-like state of ‘the natural man’ (and woman) and show us all what normal human beings could be like without Instagram? (More likely, they’ll just revert to swallowing any crap Putin throws at them.) Anyway, the theme was ‘crush’.

Basil for first love, the first time I saw you, with your brown curls and blue eyes, solid as a lumberjack, juicy as a young tree. You bellowed a greeting and disappeared into your room; my eyes followed you, greedy.

Lilac for youth, that threw us together in this higgledy-piggledy student residence, you clomping all the way from country Tasmania to my city-wearied arms. Ready to snuggle you up, if only you’d notice…

Patience for patience, sidling up beside you as you watched the communal TV, summoning a strained, approving smile as you cheered the sweaty scrums, offering you half my donuts and a ringside view of my tanned, enticing thighs…

Holly for jealousy, that corrosive fire, that if I had had my way would have burned its way right through the vital organs of that tall girl who crept behind your bedroom door and laughed you away from me.

Nightshade for murder, the day I saw you standing outside a jewellery store window with Elizabeth, your honest hobbit head next to hers sleek and ebony, holding hands. You were buying a ring. How could I bear it?

They’re all here in my diary. Crushed between the pages of a year, a herb for each turn of the heart. Better that I remember you this way, my love, than as I saw you last, cold as meat, the thief Elizabeth weeping by your side.

Agrimony for revenge, sweeter in the anticipation than in the outcome.

And a rose to bring you back, but it cannot.

And here’s Boundless, a FREE book promo which just happens to include my collection of horror stories (edited and improved, I think) What Are You Afraid Of? Pick up something and review it, an indie author will love you for it.

Photo by Farhad Ibrahimzade on Unsplash