My Girlfriend, the Narcissist She’s called Gillian. She’s got brown hair, and eyes the colour of a bleached winter sky. She’s about 5’5″, but she’s tough. My girlfriend was a narcissist. She didn’t like me having friends, or seeing family. So, I didn’t really. Gillian stuck around, though. In fact, that’s when I first met her. A few months in. I met her on the school run. She was standing in a driveway nudging gravel with the toe of her Converse. I asked her if she’d lost something. Her wedding ring, she said. Not that it mattered. He was a cheating bastard. We walked to school together, her black wax jacket similar to mine, though I envied its collar, and the zip doesn’t work on mine. It broke on Melton playing field when I bent…
“My Girlfriend, the Narcissist,” Poet Natascha Graham
