I could pick you out of a crowd,
but it hurts too much to try and
remember your face. It’s buried in a shroud of my trauma.
I’d studied it for so long, it’s like
I’m an old scholar with heartbreak-dementia:
my mind’s shield is raised to protect
me from the agony of our memories.
We’ve lost cities, cafes, homes, cultures;
our will. I still weep for us,
but you’re a stranger to me now.
A name on my phone – a number:
I’ve forgotten your face somehow.
I. James
Isabelle is a 24-year-old PGCE English student at the University of Cambridge. Her Poetry has been shortlisted for the South Yorkshire Young Writers’ Competition 2018.
