By Daisy Bignell
I was blackberry jam, freshly-picked lavender, and a Morpurgo novella,
He was black buttoned eyes, the mist that follows, and shots in the dark.
My familiarity of him fuelled his guns,
And so, the world became our staged battleground.
The theatre was a kaleidoscope of smoke and spirits, who witnessed our battle,
Between Acts, I would slowly drink the Understudies poison.
I indulged in the words of our scripts, allowing them to imprison my voice,
Whilst his whispers draw a fictive past.
And so, I bare witness to the cruellest rehearsal,
Cloaking against the graveyard of stalls,
Under her stage lights, I watched as she lives my fantasy,
As my cheeks flushed with cheap scarlet wine.
His philocalist soliloquies suffocated my simple songs,
For frost to cut my tongue free of my rehearsed lines.
But, we will always be bound by our black-inked scripts,
As the ribbons of your homilies bandage my broken heart, once more.
Daisy Bignell has just finished her Masters Degree in English Literature from the University of Winchester. From a young age, Daisy always wanted to be a writer from prose to poetry, and everything in between! Her debut poem features in ‘Scribbles,’ a literary magazine, published in November 2022. For the sake of nostalgia, Daisy is currently fixated on writing the hauntings of the people she used to know. When she isn’t writing, she’ll have her nose in an Agatha Christie novel.
Hot Pot Magazine 