Lily Sheridan-Power shares her poem, ‘First Love’.

When asked about my first love,
Most people wait for a description of my first boyfriend,
His blue eyes and long hair,
Our mundane eight months together,
Eventually ending in one of our departures

But I surprise them,
Every time,
As I spout out stories of how you made my light burn, 
My eyes bleed tears,
My hands fill pages,
The dull months grow in colour,

I stopped waiting for it because i knew we were it,
Writing stories of how your hair reached your waist when wet,
And the way it always got tangled in my hands but I’d lace my fingers round each curl anyway, 
And their faces,
Oh my god you should see their faces.

Artwork by Eliot Lambert.