Yellow reminds me of days less sick, until my skin burns, orifices stream like party poppers arching tulips lean towards me from the bedside table before being moved to the living room to live without judgement, lining the carpet like an aisle, I rub magenta in my hands so I can feel the colour as it drips from the stem, some more paper than wax, cutting off heads for a second chance, unfolding on the tea tray like reverse origami petals a stigma for all that is seen.
About AuthorCharlotte Lunn
Charlotte (she/her) is a poet, bookseller, and workshop facilitator living with chronic illness. After her creative writing degree, she became the events coordinator at Scarthin Books. She is also a poetry facilitator for Derbyshire Writing School and her collection 'Metamorphosis' with Verve Poetry Press explores abuse, mental health and recovery.
