In the crown shaped wax seal

The secret history is the one we wrote ourselves

We became ashes that remain and breathe

Like the stain of the rust of white fences railings

And the endless summer that is never there

To be seen, to be bereft of anything good

In white linen shirt and sage polka dot tie (untied)

In the movement everything was unraveling

You became a diet coconut burrito

And I was serving a rumless cherry coke with 70 grams of sugar

It was meant to be savoured meant to be enjoyed

Without rules, we became freer version of ourselves

Stealing soft kisses and stale Turkish delights

Dancing on the imaginary balcony

Singing songs with made up lyrics and forgotten tunes

Dipping two week old lemon in second batch of earl greyer

Sharing perfume with the name of daisy in it

Colonizing each other's carpet for mouse pads

To retrain the unique angle of incision of a fountain pen

Falling in love with that strawberry red ink

To argue about whether to keep a fish

To storm the refrigerator for healthy snack or lack thereof

To cross contaminate the same jar of nutella

To learn to forget you twice in a row

As the wind is still blowing and the apartment smelt of fresh paint

We paint the start and end of each of our stories

June 2023

By Aran Meredith