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Bethan Ford-Williams is in the final year of her Creative Writing and English degree.

You will stop expecting me to call.

You won’t delete my number, but you

won’t save it into your new phone

either. Although at first

you will convince yourself

of the existence of ghosts, lie half

urging, half dreading

my appearance, you

will learn to catch spiders

for yourself before bed, and wake

one morning, without

that hazy, haunted impression

of me behind your eyelids.

 

And though there will always be

that new moment

between the 7am shower and the

rest of the day,

in which you will stand

and watch droplets

roll across your skin, and think

that the morning never

used to hang

so darkly around you,

you won’t always

remember

why.