Euphoria
Seventeen and a rockstar
inflated ego from a year of hard knocks and bad skin and
I floated, witch-like, from everything; I could only assume
there was magic in my addled blood, either that or
I didn’t care. And both had power beyond the
one-way station town.
I had a t-shirt I wore in
like the sense I had of strength; a teenage lurcher
I’ve had the worst, now give me the best give me the loudest give me
everything!!!
I kissed you in that t-shirt;
you weren’t everything, and I was so scared the next day –
but this was what it felt like to end things
on my own terms, this was absolute power
this named me a king. Of course the fall came next
crying in school. It wasn’t about you
it was about my mother. I lost myself in the frozen streets
grew only when given drink
and all the while the knotted yew tree in my chest
cried for blood. The world became a confusion of colour
and I forgot the point. Then I remembered it
somewhere along the cold seafront
hidden where my hands found my friends
laughing.
Relief felt like the good lemonade, like drugs
like screaming blue sky and I knew
I didn’t want to die
alone anymore. I cut my stupid hair to my chin and
turned eighteen
and started to grow up
better.
Daisy Harris
Daisy Harris Poetry 