HALLOWEEN

By Lucy Pettigrew


We nursed our sadness like a newborn, tended

to depression like dying flowers, blade bracelets wrapped round magnolia skin.

Bitched about each other’s pain behind the other’s back, fused

kisses with complications at parties.

Took weapons out of each other’s hands to preserve precious flesh, confided

in teachers we’ll never see again, made up

our own

Depressed Girls Club.

She searched for hope in some boy’s bed and used hearts as revenge.

Step counts became my defence.

Pizza in the park still feels like a test.

Lying in my bed in the hospital I

missed our late-night talks, passing wine bottles between us,

burned GCSE notes in the garden with our friends, held our hearts in our hands, saying

please don’t break me again.

Flame

meaning monumental occasion, we watched

our friendship set fire to itself. It spat out sparks as it burned.


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