The Poetry Corner: A flower suitcase

1 min read
Credit: Canva edit by Hannah Coyle
A flower suitcase
and a kind face.

Barely spoke two words
as i offered to mind her things.

And she accepted,
trusting me, a stranger.

A two-second encounter
I replay when I'm lovesick.

Her brown eyes and brassy hair,
she told me she rode her bike in Benin.

And it felt like a secret,
or an invite, I’m not sure.

I stuttered over a story,
telling her I rode the bus round Belfast.

I like to think
we could have been each other’s home.

If we weren’t so shy,
or life wasn’t so busy.

Or if we weren’t both trapped
in our stupid, judging cities.

Feature image credit: Vocal.media

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20 year old queer poet and journalist 😎

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