We can’t force ourselves to love – but this wasn’t a hassle at all.

I started this confession in blue pen then thought it wasn’t permanent enough.

That it wouldn’t stain the pages all the way through the way a black felt-tip would.

We’ve had our hurdles, our separate Gods know we’ve stood on trial too many times, and sometimes you shake and I cry and we don’t recognise each other despite the fact we have been mirrors since we met.

We grow together, fall together, lean, bow and dream together.


The countdown to this feels like it’s been ticking over for months. Is it time for us, yet?

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