Poppy Bullard: Three Years

Three years of missed lectures,
Long breakfasts, and cups of tea,

Three years of awkward post
Coital meetings in the bread
Aisle of morrisons,

Three years of assuming the
Careers service is not
A misnomer,

Three years of initiations,
‘Freshers lunches’ and social proliferation,
Three years of flaunting the title
‘Embittered Failed Oxbridge Wanker’,

Three years of earning
A degree in
Dinner Party Conversation,

Three years of writing poems
On an empty stomach and
A full bottle of wine,

And it ends like this:
Hungover, on a bicycle.

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