2024 Competition

Stereotypical Teenage Gathering

You sit next to me on the leather sofa,

It's soft and I'm drunk enough to feel delayed at your impact.

Suddenly we’re talking on the kitchen floor – it’s tiled and it's the

only thing on my mind,

My bum is aching and I'm not thinking of kissing you I promise.

There's an adolescent and flirtatious air and I'm belatedly disgusted

it's coming from us.

But I can’t be disgusted for long when you stare at me with soft,

wobbly eyes.

Someone mentions a kebab and suddenly I'm struggling to look

composed,

I don't want you to think I'm looking green because of you.

I’m worried this is it, we don't speak much outside this dimly-lit, crowd infested house and abruptly I’m worried your name is

different and I won’t know who to yearn for.

I want to ask you for the right pronunciation but that feels about the

same as death.

So I stew in my worry and hope against my own best interest that

someone calls for you.

Everything is very sudden and instant, but slow and dragging.

The evening is already done and beyond me but we have hours until

daybreak.

I hope you’ll let me sit here with you, on linoleum floors until we

disintegrate.