Poets logo

love, and rose coloured glasses...

Slam/performance poetry.

By Leigh HooperPublished 11 months ago Updated 7 days ago 2 min read
love, and rose coloured glasses...
Photo by Kelly Sikkema on Unsplash

Truthfully I'm over him.

And if that was the truth then call me a fucking liar.

Paint my skin red on all the places you have touched me and colour my heart black.

It's been so dark since you left.

But honestly, I'll forget about you eventually.

It's just that you're etched into my bones. You're still under my fingernails and the taste of you lingers on my lips.

You are a part of me, but just a like bruise...you'll simply start to disappear.

The left side of my bed stays cold.

But I remember meeting you - the day I laid eyes on you and unbelievably, unexpectedly, fell in love - and it was as warm as a summer's day.

The first time we properly spoke to one another was also the first time our tongues met each other.

They said hello. Politely at first, and then it was oh so difficult to say goodbye.

And yes, we were drunk and yes, it was New Year's Eve but HELL.

It was love at first sight.

Forget about the fact my vision was blurry, and I couldn't walk in a straight line.

I knew it was love at first sight because I threw up before I kissed you and you didn't mind.

Perhaps you liked the taste of orange juice and vodka.

Perhaps you liked the taste of me.

It was love at first sight, yet my heart still breaks when I think about the last sight. The last time I saw you...

And if loving you was wrong then I don't want to be right.

I'll turn left, turn a blind eye to how we ended and remember that yes, it was love at first sight.

The sight of you was enough to fill my heart. My lungs wanted the air you breathed and my skin wanted to share your warmth.

You were everything.

You were the sun, and I was simply a speck of dust orbiting you because wow, you were obviously more important than me.

Perhaps upon meeting you our destiny was already sealed.

Perhaps I was Icarus.

Perhaps history truly does repeat itself.

Like I said...truthfully I'm over him.

I can't remember his name. Or the way he feels against my body. I don't remember his favourite football team. Or they way he held my hand.

But, if that was the truth then, please, call me a fucking liar.


In my previous article I mentioned I've written 3 pieces for the "From Across The Room" Challenge but I've decided to mash up 2 of the 3 pieces to create this poem! Read my 1st piece here:

If you liked this poem feel free to leave a heart to show your love! Any tips, subscriptions, or even a pledge would absolutely make my day - but no pressure!

If you want to get to know the author behind the article follow me @leighooper on Twitter and Instagram.

Thanks for reading, I hope to see you soon!

slam poetry

About the Creator

Leigh Hooper

A writer in her twenties with a head full of ideas and a room full of books✨

My Twitter and Instagram handles are: @leighooper

Reader insights

Be the first to share your insights about this piece.

How does it work?

Add your insights


There are no comments for this story

Be the first to respond and start the conversation.

Sign in to comment

    Find us on social media

    Miscellaneous links

    • Explore
    • Contact
    • Privacy Policy
    • Terms of Use
    • Support

    © 2023 Creatd, Inc. All Rights Reserved.