With Jason still remembered, I move on to Joe for a while,
less moustached, an average looking guy with face eating smile,
He lives across the river and one night my heart and mind move there too,
I don’t even get a chance to shout at them: ‘He’s not that great, what’s wrong with you?’
They mysteriously float out my shell of a body and across the Thames.
Meanwhile I pretend to be one of Joe’s greatest friends.
I rage with jealousy when he messages others more,
especially my best friend, who he actually adores.
I purse my lips and laugh at everything he has to say,
I try to find his eyes, but he’s often looking the other way,
He’s always watching her and sometimes I even hear a purr,
when she insults him or wipes back her long, shiny auburn hair
‘What’s wrong with me?’ This just isn’t fair, I scream,
in the mirror with Dolly Parton blaring JOLENE JOLENE
I try my hardest to get it out on my own and not be mean,
It’s not her fault he likes her more, with her tiny figure and gigantic boobs,
as she walks past men, you can hear the swwwwshh of their swoon,
The truth is I’m not looking great –
I’ve developed acne, and my mouth is covered in metal,
I have a sweet addiction and am not in the finest of fettle,
I’ve weirdly dyed my hair orange and have cut a greasy fringe,
and am known to be partial to a frequent Snickers binge.
I start writing him poems, stealing lyrics from Ashanti songs,
‘Loving you this much shouldn’t feel so wrong,
You’re the blood running through my veins, the lighter to my cigarette,
Of everyone I’ve ever met, (cocky I know – i’m 14) you’re the best one yet,
It hurts me, to see the way you love her because you deserve love like mine,
The fact that we like the same song by Craig David, surely that’s a sign?
And you’re a Taurus like my sister and we’re really close, in fact she’s my best friend,
Yes, our horoscopes says we’re perfectly matched – that our love will never end.
The truth is I don’t really know who he is,
we don’t actually chat that much, he talks about football and I pretend to be in the know
but I’m writing my intense feelings with an ‘I’m not sure I have the courage to say this’ intro,
I pop it in my white nylon trousers, and set off across the bridge to Barnes Cafe Nero,
Perhaps I’ll slip it in his coat pocket or pass it to him on the sly…
Later Cafe Nero chuck us out for drinking tap water from six-nine
Next to the launderette; it’s warm and a people free zone,
I walk next to Joe, push the note in his pocket and it goes unknown,
Now we’re in the launderette and Joe can’t take his eyes of her,
‘You look really nice Lorna’ He says as my insides start to stir,
I watch my friend giggle and turn her back, he pulls her round to see her face,
My declaration of love is sitting in his pocket, my heart starts to race,
She is giggling and chatting and they are staring each other in the eye,
Meanwhile I can feel lumps rise in my throat, ‘Oh god’ I think ‘I’m gonna cry’
I have to do something, I can’t watch anymore –
Suddenly I’m opening the large launderette washing machine door,
and trying to climb in, my trainer hits the drum and makes it ring,
‘Look at me, Look at me – I’m getting in, I’m getting in’
I say, trying to keep tears down and scrunch my body up really small,
What to do once in the machine, I haven’t thought of at all,
Curled up like a foetus, I wait for them to turn around,
to check out this cool, new accessory I’ve found.
I’m desperate – perhaps he’ll fall in love with me if I’m wearing a huge amount of tin,
I’m watching him when, not looking, he pulls the letter from his pocket and spits his chewing gum in.
He scrunches up my words of love and chucks them on the ground,
meanwhile I try to climb out unnoticed, without making a sound.