Elisabeth Writing

Sometimes I go through my writing and fondly remember something I have written, wallow in the remembrance, and leave feeling lighter. So here’s one for you. I wrote this in a dark place. I was with my last ex and we were fighting, always fighting. I was so tired of dark rooms and tears. I was so sick of the person I was at that time. I was so sick of the shouting and the lies. I was so sick of cold eyes. And so I remembered a love that was more like summer and sunlight. I remembered, and I was able to move a little more into that space myself. They say memories can kill, that nostalgia can ruin you – but I say, it can help you heal… 💕

I was the Moon, but I always belonged to the Sun.

In childhood, I worshipped you. The bright rays of your sky-high warmth kissed my cheeks and chest, tickling me with barely a touch. When you left, I had freckles, like maps of where you’d been. As if you wanted me to remember. As if I could forget. My moonwhite skin, silver, turned bronze beneath you. I always wanted more, even when that bronze turned red, and blistered. I could never get enough.

I wondered, as I got older, what it would feel like to bathe in you, naked and free. To feel your hands on my aureoles, between my legs. Liquid gold. My darkness… banished by your presence. Light made into a man, always longing, never close enough to embrace, though I fought tides and time to be with you.

And then, there you were: truly gold eyes and dark skin. I knew you. I knew you. I knew you.You brought me a flower, red and breathless, somehow still bright and true as long as it was near you. My moonbeams would not breathe life into it but you… you could. I couldn’t move, when I saw the incandescence and fervor, shining like beacons. We were earthbound creatures, bound to love one another from the first glance. 

And, as we tried to forget, bound to lose one another, and so be lost in our endless yearning. 

When passion overtook us, at last, I could only think: “Ah, finally.” You were everything I never knew I wanted, nor knew I needed. My silver and your gold meshed into some new beautiful thing, some color never seen before, darkness and light fused and merged. I cried when you were inside me, the beauty and pain of you, of us, overwhelming. Somehow we were newly forged steel, and yet as old as time. 

I had you.

I loved you.

And I lost you.

These days, my temple is empty, and I have no idols or souvenirs beyond paper filled with ink and the devotion within my heart. My skin is silver once more in this winter landscape, and I would do anything, anything at all, just to feel you again.