[image description: A cropped image of a pair of green eyes against a grey background. Below is the text 'It ended, though. Those green eyes spilling over with glassy tears. The static hum of the radio. The eons fell to pieces and our eternity concluded with a full stop.' in front of blue and yellow rectangles.]
Cover image by Floteren.
This reader submission comes from Emma Strutt (aged 16, England) on her first love. Enjoy!
It was the fifth of July when I noticed
your eyes were green.
I remember because we were watching
yesterday’s fireworks in America
on your new TV.
And I wondered how I’d never spotted
that they were like a feather
from the woodpecker on the lawn.
We’d spent eons together, you and me.
Well, maybe only our childhoods,
but it felt like eternity.
I noticed your eyes every day since
along with other things
like that vein visible on your right wrist
or your lips
as they curved around your first cigarette.
I would occasionally think
that you might see me the same.
That you might catch glimpses of me
on our bike rides, my face illuminated
in the golden streetlights
and notice things you’d never seen before.
It crept up slow on me.
But maybe it was fast for you.
A sudden change.
Perhaps you first noticed my eyes
that day I dared to touch your hand
in the cinema
and you didn’t draw yours away.
Or when we drove into the dark
to see the stars
undimmed by the glow of the city
and you stared at my face
while I stared at the sky
on the roof of your Dad’s car.
It ended, though.
Those green eyes spilling over
with glassy tears.
The static hum of the radio.
The eons fell to pieces
and our eternity concluded
with a full stop.