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Coquelicot

and then there was me before you
in the in-between and the aftermath,
of smudged lipstick and panda eyes
and a bag of tricks that contained
all and everything, hastily packed in a room
with coquelicots patterned on the walls
bright and red and eternally ours
they waved when we left

and I wondered if they withered
as damp crawled and the paper
yellowed, growing musty in the years
before I was I and you were you
of the shall and shall nots
if you were happy or sad
sipping your coffee from a plastic cup
dry toast, wet tears
in the aftermath of aprés moi
from the vapour trails we laid
and the fields where the poppies grow.

Poetry by Elle