Words from my Friday bend into playlists,
mascara in one hand, a drink fills my fist.
I perfectly curl my dark-brown eyelashes,
while the square of the mirror burns white in my iris.
And now I’m here: the preparation of perfect.
Harsh emerald veins fill my eyes with excitement,
and sparkling wines stain my lips in the minutes;
an outfit curated then then painted with spirits,
I’m finally submerged in the fill of us laughing,
in the pub or the house or my friend’s friends pre-drinking.
My higher self trapped behind glass looking in,
words are silent and distantly thin,
Time passes quickly to white milky clouds,
blurring words broken by slurring of sounds.
Sentences forged without too much meaning;
‘I’d been meaning to say way too much while we’re speaking’
Fingers pull at your waist to get you to listen,
smothered by touch in the midst of us hissing.
I want to keep going and I want to keep seeking,
what’s hidden in corners or kept in the next thing,
I want to keep drinking and thinking in lines,
feel the burn of a drink-twist of lemon and lime.
Friends peel me away when I’m stuck in the moment -
its over -
It’s broken -
eyes roll in to darkness.
Aurora Roelofs is currently a special needs teacher in London. She graduated with a social sciences degree from the university of Cambridge. Aurora writes poetry which tries to evoke strong imagery and that draw on the minutiae of familiar experiences. She likes to focus on a range of themes including relationships, drinking, addiction, dreaming and feminism.