by Lucy Goodwill

I have a confession
The first time we met
The first night you kissed me
and took me home
there were moments where I was with you
but thinking of him

There was something in the way you held yourself
The way you spoke to me
The way our eyes met across the bar
and the look yours had in them

My hands on the back of your neck
I found myself transported
Who knew that memories could be triggered by the density of a person’s hair?
That particular coarseness

Of course, now I know you,
I know you only share that quality in your hair
and not your person

Me, twelve hours later,
My mascara creating sly dark smiles beneath my eyes
I saw you clearly for the first time
Bleary eyed, wry grin,
you pulled me in and it felt safe
It felt nice
Your skin soft to the touch

Lucy Goodwill | @lucygoodwill |

Lucy Goodwill is a writer and freelance charity consultant based in North East London. She is currently embarking on her first novel (when she’s not on Twitter, that is).

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