Zara Ní Shuilleabhain
you called me boring
“about as stiff as my father’s whiskey” you said.
They found funny considering i hated the stuff.
but. when They left you called me
and as feisty as the fiery copper liquid in your father’s glass was too.
around other girls you were cheap as the six pack of cider your friends bought at tesco on a friday night.
with your attractive outer package glinting in each girls’ eye.
and your sour apple taste bittersweetly
left them longing for more.
it left me longing for more.
but just like the six pack of cider you were unpleasant to wake up to in the morning.
you were gone.
but couldn’t be forgotten.
leaving regret dance in pretty girls’ stomachs mimicking the mocking in their hungover heads.
you were understanding intoxicated with confusion.
you were hot tea saturated with lemon and honey.
years of conformity had made you sour, but the warmth of your tea and the sweetness of your honey overpowered your pain.
i called you love.
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