photo by Melissa Reid

photo by Melissa Reid

photo by Melissa Reid

photo by Melissa Reid

I found you, again
I didn’t expect
To see you, again
Forgot you were still
Around here, somewhere
Waiting to be found.

Your bangs, covering
Your eyes ever so
Slightly, not hiding
The glint in them, a
Dark border of lash
Around the glimmer.

You smile that crooked
Smile, no teeth on show
You despise your teeth
(Yes, I remember),
You always feel self
Conscious, don’t know why.

You’re wearing the scarf
I bought you that day
We wandered home from
Town in tropical
Rain, your hair soaking,
Clothes over the fire.

Hot chocolate in
Tea cups, marshmallows
Melt down, the sugar
Attacking our teeth
Firelight on your face,
Those lovely cheekbones.

It’s so hard not to
Think of the things we
Did, not to think of
The things we never
Did do, memories
Not made, lost items.

What was I thinking
That night, when it all
Seemed so endless, the
Story ongoing
No plain end in sight,
Just continuance.

I turn you around,
Just to see what’s on
Your back, anything
Only three small words
‘Loch Lomond, April’
Your writing, so neat.

David Rush is a postgraduate student at the University of Strathclyde. He graduated from Strathclyde in 2013 with a First Class Honours degree in Journalism, Creative Writing and English. During his time at Strathclyde, he served as Arts Editor of the Strathclyde Telegraph, and continues to contribute to the publication. He enjoys writing short stories and poems, and is currently working on his first screenplay. He lives in Glasgow.