Giving you that cold sore by Megan Groves

I stare at him, entranced,
Wishing it was me
Who gave you that cold sore
Upon your cupids bow.
I hope I catch your eye,
I know it’ll never
Be the way he does.
Your smile, accentuated by that sore,
Casts shadows
You blind me.
Your voice, sickly sweet to my ears
Deafens me. I imagine
Your moans
Breathless, erratic
Pleading.
Until I remember him.
His hands over your skin
Breath on your neck
Lips on yours
Giving you that cold sore.

Megan is currently a Masters student studying creative writing with a focus on prose fiction, but dabbling in poetry. Megan currently lives in Bedford with her partner. You can find out more about her by following her on Instagram at @Megwanna_the_iguana – forewarning, she gets obsessed with swans around summertime.

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Clover & White publish short stories, flash fiction and poetry every Sunday. If you like what we do, share the love and let others know about us. Don’t forget to follow us on Instagram & Twitter, and join our Mailing list!

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