25

Sometimes I think I get so sad I can only write bad poetry: a prime example of a good student who only knows how to mess up. It's like we can't escape what could have been: a prime example of forbidden romance and New York and jazz playing in the background. You used to say you always pictured us in France, but I'd never let go of Wales and the white house and the fresh daffodils. The smell of clean cotton and fish stew and empty bottles of beer making a home out of the coffee table. A prime example of a professor and his student who finally realised what she did wrong. I think I would have finally been better at housework, but all this anxiety has now left me tired and wondering.