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Liz Hill Aug 2015
In the months since you left, I have stared, blankfaced, waiting for a single moment of inspiration.
Poised with my pen, prepared to write the greatest breakup poem.
But all I feel is nothingness.
My mind is a screaming black hole with your name on it that has ****** every ounce of creativity from these fingertips that used to ebb and flow with words.
I am the nothingness that you created.
Liz Hill Aug 2015
He's my worst nightmare come true.
Liz Hill Jun 2015
The lips I kissed tonight,
didn't taste like you.
And the cotton shirt that I
clung to didn't smell like you.
So I kissed him harder and
pulled him closer,
pushing you deeper into my
memories, always trying
to forget that
my lips,
and my arms,
weren't enough for you either.
Old but accurate.
Liz Hill May 2015
I was kerosene
and you were the match
that sparked the explosion.
The ashy fragments that
surrounded us, a fiery
reminder of our memories
burnt up in the explosion
you caused.
Liz Hill May 2015
One: I'm sorry I wasn't good enough for you.
Two: There is no such thing as a "break".
Three: I've tried to write all day but all I feel is emptiness and I'm terrified you took the last of my inspiration when you walked away.
Four: Is this not bothering you? Was giving up on me that simple?
Five: I haven't cried since last night. And that was because I'm going to miss your mom.
Six: All I can taste are peach rings. They're the only thing I can stomach without feeling sick.
Seven: I miss you and I shouldn't.
Eight: I'm ****** that I wasn't worth more than a text message break up.
Nine: ******* everything reminds me of you. I hate that I can't look around my own home without seeing you in it.
Ten: Have you thought of me? Because the thought of you going about your daily life, happy without me, hurts worse than death.
Eleven: Does she remind you of me? In some twisted way, I hope she does.
Twelve: I lied. Our song came on the radio today and it collapsed me to the floor in tears.
Thirteen: I just want to be happy again.
Liz Hill Apr 2015
Don't ask me why I love you.
You know happiness
is not what flows
through my veins to the hand
that writes of you. Of us.
Instead ask me why I love
the murky blue of your eyes
and your sideways tilt a whirl smile.
Ask me why I let you hold me close
when you know I hate being
warm when I sleep.
Don't ask me why I love you.
Because you already know.
Liz Hill Apr 2015
I've come to realize, in the space
between apart and a part,
that you have become the saving grace
that overflows my cup
with the hail Mary's that flow
from your whiskey coated lips.
You have transformed the expanse
of a space bar into a journey that
takes our souls from the divine corners
of the universe, shrinking the distance,
to the solitude and safety
in a part of each other
that makes us feel whole.
Not fantastic. Just some late night thoughts.
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