Breathe

By Ella Bowler

Think about your first college day.

Or second; you didn’t make the first.

You were too busy drawing lines into her skin,

wishing you had gone in,

because she wouldn’t be around next week.

She’d be with another, talking about her mother, admitting how she’d never fell in love before.

How it’d been so long since she’d felt like this.

So just breathe.

And think about the good things

Think about that dress you love.

How you wore it on a Sunday night, sitting on a bus, drinking discreetly. It crawled up your thighs, but you didn’t mind too much.

Going to a party in the city, floral pattern, lace trimmings

You watched things lose their shape.

Unfolded so fast; a scary pop up book in your hands

took the bus home,

that dress doesn’t fit the same anymore

So just breathe

And think about the good things

Think about her

And what she means

How she is chaos, calamity and every fucking good thing

Coffee in the morning, smokes when you’re tipsy, she is that feeling

In the centre of your stomach, so excited that you’re sick.

She makes you sick, so fucking sick, she’s twisted, like plaited hair; takes your words and plaits them so tight you can’t breathe.

she only wants you in extremes; all of you or none, but she hasn’t called in a month

so just

Breathe

And think about the good things