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First

There’s a certain shade

of teenage love

unlike any other

that time has to offer.

A passing flush

parades across the chest;

a formidable force

under the breast.

Heaving; heavy with

the weight of the First,

a confident uncertainty

of its own making

Sinking or Floating or Breaking

it becomes made.

A breathless vision;

here, well-hidden

in a canvas marred with age –

where vibrancy inevitably

has dried up like old paint

and succumbed slowly, under

silent fade.

Picture the seasoned lover

until the Last,

now warms with a pallet

of a predictable ensemble;

where a once-familiar hue

emerges as new.

Ah, the First –

a memory described

head-first deep-dive

into complete saturation,

summoned only in the tense

where once conquered all makings

now, washed from existence.

The Minx
I am a poser, an entertainer, a legend in my own lunchbox. I live for the weekends; Saturday, in particular. I spent eight years of my life in the middle of the desert. I am, and forever will be, a musician. I have recently liberated myself of all addiction, including caffeine and chocolate. I have been described as a dark beauty. I am intense. I am an entrepreneur. I have a big heart with open-invitation. I am a gypsy. I have a bad temper but it rarely comes to surface. I am a bookworm. I am reliable. I always on early to every apptime. I am a fiercely loyal friend. I love getting my hands dirty in the garden. I am an early bird. I am an idealist. Red is my favourite colour. Patience is a virtue I do not possess. I have a queen-sized bed and only sleep on one side. The library is my favourite place in the world. I have been referred to as the fearless one by my family. I love the city. I am ambitious. I have a collection of expensive stilettos, bandannas and vintage handbags. I love the dancefloor. Musk is my favourite scent. I dream most nights. I love the rain.
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