New Years Eve

We went to a restaurant for our first anniversary.

My black dress and red lips, 

Your smart jacket and your crisp white shirt.

We ate the wonderful food.

We drank the wonderful drink.

By this point my lipstick was smudged and tainted with wonderful red wine. 

My tongue, too, was tainted. And bitter.

When you said my red lipstick was to your distaste, this provoked me in my drunken state.

We argued. 

We argued about many things. About our differences in lifestyles, our clashes in opinions. And I drank more. And when I drank more I began to cry. 

That’s when I made my exit to reapply the red lipstick that you dislike. Just to spite you.

“Get the bill, please.” I say as my heels click on the wooden floor.

When I return to our table you have your head in your hands. We don’t look at each other.

I bite my lip hard to stop the neverending tears from flowing, keeping my head down in fear the rest of the room will see.

But when I look up, with tears blurring my vision.

I see your stupid smile.

All of a sudden I’m laughing and the tears pour down my cheeks.

“At least we argue enough to care.” You say. You smile at me.

“Do you think we’ll always be like this?” I laugh.

“Probably.”

You take me home. You take me to bed.

By the end of the night the only thing that comes between us is our clothes.

You soon see to that.

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George

I don’t know how you managed to appear at the perfect time –

Just before I was about to give up on boys altogether,

Give up on the romantics, the faithful ones, the committed ones 

because I’d forgotten that they had even existed at all.

Suddenly there you were, looking like George Harrison,

with your long hair and your beard; your silence and your brooding dark eyes.

I instantly knew I must have you.

But I never would have fathomed the feeling would be mutual,

Never imagined a boy I could only conjure in my dreams would manifest himself into my reality,

That I could reach out and touch you,

That I could call you mine.

Pillow Talk.

I used to have this fear that I would hear you utter someone elses name in your sleep.
The possibility that you might love another; the graveyards of old girlfriends haunting your dreams.

You always wake me in the night with your ramblings.

Last night I awoke to you stroking my cheek. You said “I love you, Sam,”
I said “I love you too, baby,”
Then you rolled over and went back to sleep.

That’s how I know it’s real.

An automatic phrase at the tip of your tongue,
Nothing to hide or conceal.
No thought behind it, no rehearsed words,
Something that escapes you even in sleep.

You may be asleep, but your love is always awake.
I’ve come to realise that love is a state of being,
Your words reminded me.

They are the best words to wake up to,
Even if you have no recollection of it,
I will dream of those words for the rest of my life.

i love you.

every time i tell you that i love you,

it unlocks a tsunami wave of emotion i never knew existed.

i choke on the words like i am drowning and i can taste salt in my mouth

from the tears that begin to fall involuntarily from my eyes.

i have never loved somebody and have them love me in return.

when you look deep into my eyes and tell me you love me,

i believe you.

that is what makes me cry.