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Liz G Jun 2015
It was the summer of ‘83 and my hair was blonde like you liked it
I wasn’t anything you didn’t like
My nails were that aquamarine blue you said you liked after we sat on the pier
And I learned to make your favourite breakfast after your mother made it for us the first time I came over
I was for you, I was made for you, I was yours
But then that sunny Saturday evening just before sunset
I walked down to the pier to paint you the prettiest picture
And I saw her wrapped around your bones like our first time
I saw you gaze into her eyes like they reflected the constellations we would name together on a Friday night
And I ran straight home to dye my hair red
To paint my nails black because I knew it reminded of you of the car your father left in
And the last time you’d come over for breakfast, I made sure to burn your toast like you burned my heart
I saw you the week after with her, nails painted blue, hair curled the way you liked mine and I laughed
I was for you, I was made for you, but no more
No more
Liz G Jun 2015
It was the summer of ‘83 and my hair was blonde like you liked it
I wasn’t anything you didn’t like
My nails were that aquamarine blue you said you liked after we sat on the pier
And I learned to make your favourite breakfast after your mother made it for us the first time I came over
I was for you, I was made for you, I was yours
But then that sunny Saturday evening just before sunset
I walked down to the pier to paint you the prettiest picture
And I saw her wrapped around your bones like our first time
I saw you gaze into her eyes like they reflected the constellations we would name together on a Friday night
And I ran straight home to dye my hair red
To paint my nails black because I knew it reminded of you of the car your father left in
And the last time you’d come over for breakfast, I made sure to burn your toast like you burned my heart
I saw you the week after with her, nails painted blue, hair curled the way you liked mine and I laughed
I was for you, I was made for you, but no more
No more
Liz G May 2015
Twice I confessed my soul to a ***** priest with bible hands
The first time I was lost, not even for words, just for coherence and faith
The last time I was a babbling fountain, spilling all my secrets and before I realised
It was too late. Silence.
Where was the priest? I still saw the white
I still heard the tap tapping of of his judgement on the bench
I smelled the incense like my grandmother’s room after Friday prayer

I woke up and I knew that the church was my sins
With walls of plastered apologies to God
Windows of hope and breaths of fresh air just in case I decided to change
And of course that alter was my heart
There’s no place for a broken soul in my church

And it pained me to note that although intention was all I thought that mattered It was much more, much more than what I confessed
Much more than my mind was prepared to give
And my church of sins and apologies crumbled that Sunday morning and I was left with rubble of nothing I could piece together
Liz G May 2015
Two summers ago, you were a floating sunset and I was an ocean breeze

And we crashed and collided head on like the panic and fury of storm waves on a white shore

Your passion and my faith were two north poles that broke every law of attraction

And every starry night we spent on blankets out on the lawn broke my heart a little because you were beautiful but I was blind

I told you that I loved you and I knew you wore your heart on your sleeve and breaking our hearts was a chance I was willing to take

But then I got greedy and

Our suddenly behaving north poles found it harder to break the rules

Your passion didn’t allow for commitment and my faith didn’t allow for short term

Short lived I think is what I’d call our love

Too fast, too soon, too loud and too strong

But not strong enough
Liz G Mar 2015
I wanted to give you the world, my world at least
I wanted to make you so happy and show you that the world isnt all a bad place..
I'm so sad that you don't want my world
Liz G Mar 2015
I’ve been searching for my soul in all the wrong places
My soul isn’t meant to be quiet and confined like they say
My soul craves a slow but fierce burn that takes ages to tame
I’ve been looking in the wrong places - but no more
Liz G Feb 2015
When I see him, my heart doesn't skip a beat, I am overjoyed, ecstatic but not nervous at all
When he sees me, he instantly smiles the most beautiful, wide smile that's making me tear up right now just thinking about it
He holds out his hands and I take them - we never interlock fingers, just palm on palm
I hug him with both hands around his neck, never around his waist and he hugs me with the same intensity every time, even after only a few hours of being apart
His peripheral vision is so bad that I can sometimes look at him for minutes at a time without him noticing - sometimes I like that, other times I don't. What's comforting though is that he always catches me anyway, because he looks at me quite frequently too
We haven't kissed, we haven't said "I love you", we haven't been rushing things which I think is so beautiful
I limit the number of times I confess that I miss him, only because I'm afraid of the same thing happening again - I always seem to want too much
So how is it different?
When he stopped in front of my home at 5am to drop me off, we sat looking at each other and he didn't even attempt to kiss me
We talked about never leaving and about other times we'd spend together and adventures we'd go on
We hugged each other multiple times and he kissed me on the cheek, never did he make an attempt to touch me or to kiss me and I'm glad
I know he wants something more
He waited for my mother to come outside and was exceptionally polite but not in the 'trying-to-make-an-impression' way, he is just simply polite
And I got upstairs at 5:17 and checked my phone only to see his text saying "I'll miss you"
And that's how I know it's different
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