Football Imagines (England players mostly)

Poems - Phil Foden

 I woke up to the sound of the birds chirping near my window. The surfaces of my room gleamed with sunlight. I got out of bed and pulled the curtains to reveal an intimidating amount of sunlight. It was overwhelming, but I squinted through it to see my flowers which were now blossomed to the fullest. Yellow daffodils, bright lilies and violet orchids, all assembled on my window into a beautiful bloom of colours. 

The sight of it was too wonderful to me until I recollected some of last night's memories. I was no longer wearing the same smile I had two seconds ago. I hurried to my closet. His clothes were gone. He took his belongings with him. He left without even letting me know. Did I deserve this? Was I the faulty one?

I raised my right hand to observe the bruise he gave me. My wrists were still red from his tight grasp on my hand. My heart was still aching from the pain he gave me. My mind was still healing from the words he said to me. The wounds he gave me would probably be a permanent scar that would always remind me of that dreadful moment. I had holes in my soul now; maybe it would stay that way for the rest of my life. Now I realised I wasn't the faulty one; I was not the one to blame. 

I closed my eyes and inhaled a shaky breath. I was weak; not anymore. If he left, it was for the best. For him and for me. 

He never liked it when I went to clubs and danced the night out. Even though getting drunk wasn't my cup of tea, I would do it just to show him that I wasn't his anymore. I planned to go to a local club on that night. 

I called Laura, my best friend, and asked her if she'd come but she said she already had plans with her boyfriend. I didn't let her know that Marcus broke up with me yesterday because she'd then insist on cancelling her plans and spending her time with me instead. 

***

I wore a black stretchy mini dress that had laces joining in a V-neck together and closed off the dress at the top. I paired it with the most badass black boots I found. That was my version of the revenge dress. My hair was loose around my shoulders but I kept a spare hair tie with me in case I changed my mind. Marcus would never allow me to wear such revealing dresses. But it was perfect since tonight was the night I broke all the stupid rules he'd make me follow. I grabbed a small crossbody purse which contained my phone, credit cards and my poem journal. When something was touching and got me emotional, I liked writing short poems about it. I always brought it with me everywhere because I never knew when I'd get the inspiration to write something. 

I drove to the club. After a couple of hours, I had only one tequila. I didn't want to get drunk because I would have to drive back home later. Halfway through my drink, someone nudged my shoulder. Before I even turned around, the person was already standing next to me. It was a guy. He wasn't too tall, but I assumed he was still around four to five inches taller than me because I was wearing high heels. I could not see his face. "One tequila for me please", he said, then turned to me and smiled. HOLY SHIT IT WAS PHIL FODEN. My mind was yelping. I felt like screaming on the spot with delight, but managed to remain calm. 

"Are footballers even allowed to have tequila?", I asked. He smirked, then looked down at his drink. "Technically no, but I think most of us break the rules", he replied thoughtfully, then took a sip. "What's your name?", he asked. 

"Rae."

"I like your name", he said while taking another sip. He put the glass down. I was still watching him when he furrowed his eyebrows. It was not an angry sort of reaction; maybe from curiousness. What would he be curious about? 

He raised his left hand and softly felt the bruise on my right wrist. His hands were comfortably warm. He ran his thumb on it a couple of times then let his hand rest there for a few seconds before removing it from the table. He never asked a question about it. It was like he immediately knew what happened to my wrist with one small, soft, and simple touch. 

I glanced at his face. It was like my facial expressions were mirrored in his. I saw a flicker of hurt. Like when someone is broken inside. Maybe he was here for the same reason I was. 

Maybe that's how we can connect. Maybe he had holes in his soul too. Maybe I was the missing piece in his puzzle and he was mine. Maybe a part of someone's soul completes your own. Maybe there wouldn't be a blank void in my soul anymore. 

I suddenly felt like writing a poem. I excused myself and went to find some space. The music was too deafening to me. I needed somewhere quiet. On the hallway to the bathroom, I spotted stairs which probably led to a rooftop balcony. I hastily climbed the stairs and it led me to the roof. The entrance was smaller than usual but I managed to pass through it quite fine. 

I removed my journal from my purse and began jotting down what I felt while sitting down on the floor. Suddenly, I felt a rush of emotions which I kept within myself since yesterday and tears poured down my face. Marcus didn't deserve those tears. So I wiped them and continued jotting down in my journal whatever came to my heart. Those moments are the ones where if you write a poem and read it later, you'd maybe feel the same way you did while writing it. It's like these words assembled together can cause so much pain, but simultaneously, because of them, you let go of your feelings. 

"That's beautiful", I heard a familiar voice. I glanced over my shoulder to see Phil walking into the balcony through the small door. He took a seat next to me on the floor. I smiled. "It's the first time I received a compliment in so many days"

"You deserve it, Rae"

"It's about you", I said, then looked back down at the journal while fidgeting with my pen. "I know", he replied and took my hand in his. I let go of the pen and let it roll on the floor. With his free hand, he grabbed the pen and my journal. He opened the last page and wrote his number.

 He then gave me a soft kiss on my cheeks and left the balcony. 

_________

A/N: Part 2 coming soon. 

Credits: poemhunter.com for inspiration of the poem. And to the book, 'Heartbones' by Colleen Hoover for the concept of broken souls and how a piece of someone's soul can fill yours. 

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