OUR PLACE: poem by Adrianna O'Shea
As if the sky hurled the moon from its eternity, We were prized apart By two hundred miles of motorway,
Leeds and her cold, winter afternoons Became a haven, A fond memory that I couldn't quite touch
You. For if to be inside of you wasn't close enough, Then being two hundred miles apart would just not do, I slept restlessly in a single bed.
I gave up on the day and dreamed instead, Dreamed that I would wake to see you In the courtyard with your morning coffee
And hand rolled cigarette. I sat with you for a moment, Then retreated because of the biting frost.
That is what I regret. Letting the comfort of limitless time, diminish the preciousness of each moment Spent in your deep, dark gaze.
I wake from my dream To stare at a screen And speak to a pixelated version of your face.
Another time, in Leeds, we drank miso soup, On a grey afternoon, Before going to the art gallery.
Then, some days we didn't rise at all. Instead, we let hours melt away, In the warmth of unmade bedsheets.
My mother would never let my bedsheets Go unmade. Alone, I tuck in the corners. Firmly.
Spring slips into summer And Leeds slips even further away, Forcing a new type of distance that isn't measured in miles.
For a moment, all I feel is frustration. The call lags and your voice fades, I sleep alone and another day passes.
As the days weather away, So do the hours between now and normality, Soon, you will become real again.
Soon, I will fall into your arms and cry Because I will be in your presence, Walking up the steep streets of Leeds -
Adrianna O'Shea is an aspiring writer from an old mill town in Greater Manchester. She loves to write both poetry and prose, usually choosing to focus on social issues and emotive personal experiences within the landscape of Northern England. Now based in Leeds, Adrianna is studying social work at university. She loves to explore new places and meet new, interesting people.