Charlotte Spires explores the idea that we romanticise strangers, even those lovers we once knew so well who have since become strangers. Illustration by Karolina Burdon

Strangers

There are strangers in the beginning:

those who untuck the neatness from your edges,

propel

you forward into the warmth

reminiscent of an old friend’s

familiar grip.

Then, there are strangers at the end:

those silhouettes of a person

gutted

from the presence of your life,

who took the tucked away parts of yourself

with them.

 

This poem by Charlotte Spires featured in The Romance Issue of Popshot magazine.

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