You never used to inspire me to write.
When I met you, I wished so badly that my writer's block would disappear and I could compose a poem of all the feelings I had for you.
But you know what they say,
Be careful what you wish for.
Because now I can't stop.

Now, the thought of you is so inspiring that all I want to do is write and write and write and write and write and write and write.
Your gorgeous tan skin and bright blue-green eyes force my fingers on the keys to keep going, until my nails are broken and my fingertips are raw.

You never used to make me feel creative.
What happened?

I fell in love.
I dove into the lake of love, heart first,
not realizing that I would never escape it.
I didn't want to escape the canal boat floating down the river of devotion so smoothly.

I should've gotten out when I could.

Little did I know that a shark lingered in that river.
A Great White Shark, ready to lunge at my exposed heart, that rested on my sleeve.
Although what I realize now is,
Sharks only live in the ocean.
The stinging pain in my chest isn't an aquatic beast.
It's love itself,
Trying to rip my heart from my chest and tear it to pieces, before my very eyes.

Love.
The destructive force that tricked me into falling for its lies.
Its promises of joy and happiness,
devotion and fondness.
The infatuation and lust that love guaranteed was all a ploy.
A ploy to catch me in its web, waiting for the spider itself to eat me alive.

You never used to inspire me to write.
But now you're my muse.
I wish I was smarter than this.
I wish I didn't fall in love with your kind heart and your gentle soul.
But remember, be careful what you wish for.
Because maybe, if I hadn't wished in the first place,
My heart wouldn't be so heavy,
And my hands wouldn't be numb from writing endless insignificant love letters to you.