Creative Writing Love

Tongue Play

Childhood innocence died today.

Love came out of ex nihilo.

I ziplocked some of his clothes retaining his smell.

He parked his tongue in my mouth. A velvet rut.

Knowing that love had an expiration date, an obvious thought appeared like a stain: I think I’ll just hold your tongue with mine.

The idea of love is true and false at the same time.

Love was everything and nothing after this kiss.

And then I laid my eyes on him; my brown eyes on his sharp jawline and lips.

When he hugged my tongue, the lips enclosing it in a bear hug, I knew that it would be fine.

We all want this storybook fantasy.

When it comes to this theme of love, the finer points are always exaggerated, but the broader strokes in its narrative feels very true.

Yet, love is still very much a lie.

Creative Writing Love


I couldn’t stand the beating of my heart when I saw you.

So I swiped.

You swiped too.

But not just on me.

I think that you’re good at making others care for you.

I imagined that when you cry, that your eyes would sparkle just like my smile in a starry sky.

Over the period of two birthdays I decided to love you.

Loving you was a choice where I borrowed suffering in advance.

And, you – a lie – turned up at my doorstep.

Now, I’m sipping low-key sadness in the dark.