Never fall in love with a poet.

Her familiarity with words
How she can gather and pick the best of consonants and syllables from the white picket fenced field that has a sign near the entrance labeled  "alphabet"
and with this she may offer you a bouquet of sentences carefully articulated and placed in a specific manner to look effortlessly marvelous

How she will always fall asleep with a thought
And turn them into thought infused dreams
And then churn this mixture in the mechanisms within her
Bring forth a lovely array of vocabulary that sounds like rhythmic melodies to your ears

Never fall in love with a poet.

She will know your words all too well
Because she knows words all too well
She knows that they aren't always what they seem
And no matter how many words you offer back to her in return
A lesson is engraved within her heart which solely believes
that words can not be given alone

The beauty of words must be matched with the strength of actions
Less your beautiful words will be nothing but a distraction
Without the fibers of action to hold your words together, to wrap her up in a cloth of security and warmth
Everything you will say and have said before is just
sweet poetry

And she, my dear, is a poet
Who has too many a poem tucked away in the deepest corners of her heart
What good will just your poem do?