I was fifteen, wearing a black dress with the
polka-dots and the sweetheart neckline.
Overdressed for the house party.
My friends were finding teenage love that would never fade,
clumsy relationships worth crying over when
every desire they’d ever had was already looking for the next.
They pawed at themselves and each other, drunk on
love and cheap cider that came in two litre bottles.
We drank in fields that whole hazy summer.
I don’t feel old enough for twenty-year-old
nostalgia hanging in my closet, and yet
there she hangs, zipped away.
An older, younger version of myself.
At night she whispers to me about what could have been.
I close the wardrobe door and shut her in.
–
Terri-Jane Dow is a writer living in London, UK. She is the director of Cursive Knives, and she was the founding editor of the literary journal Severine. Her writing has been published by Dear Damsels, Lucy Writers Platform, Jellyfish Review, Black Fox Lit, and Crab Fat, among others. Find her on Instagram @terri_jane.