I was once wild,
But in your arms,
You'd managed to tame me.
And once you'd finished,
You threw me back into the jungle.
Here, it is eat or be eaten-
The sun is bright,
And I fear that I am not the lion.

dating a writer
is like guessing the weather.
you think you know what you'll get,
but you never do.

you never know
because

she'll create a hero
from your weaknesses

and she'll write a great character,
from every last flaw.

she'll create a thousand plots  
from your worst nightmares.

she'll take every last thing you hate
and create something you'll love.

she'll turn your anger
into confessions of adoration,

and she'll make you,
everything you're not.

but worst of all,
she'll leave you wondering-
is it you she's in love with,
or things she's created from you?

but here's the beauty of it:

if you date a writer,
you'll never die.

There's fairy lights in your hair,
You're smiling,
I'm melting,
It's half past the right time.

We were so submerged in each other's minds that we'd forget about the world around us.
We'd burn the days away until every fragment of you knew every fragment of me
and I could locate your freckles, as if they were my own.
Darling, it's only been a month,
and yet we were so young.
But it appears that we've outgrown our callowness,
and can never cross paths in the way that we used to.
We became lukewarm too fast.

You're telling me you don't understand,
but darling, you don't make sense,
You make messes.

We were so disoriented by each other's lips that we'd get drunk off of each other's presence.
We'd dream the days away until every ounce of me felt the need to regain its equilibrium because you'd send me spinning.
Darling, it's only been a month,
and yet we've grown so old.
But it appears that we left our alignment in your sheets,
for we felt too much too fast until we overflowed with tepidness.

You're telling me you don't understand
but I don't make sense,
I make mistakes.

We'd so frequently be in each other's heads that we suffocated whatever we could have been.
We'd forget that fire needs oxygen to thrive until the light in my eyes dimmed to minuscule sparks.
Darling, it's only been a month,
and yet we are so cold.
And it feels like winter all the time in the midst of spring,
For we were a flame that blew itself out.

You get it.
We don't make fire,
We make wind.

We were amused
At how many times we'd run into each other,
Never dawned we were entwined at the soul.
Because we'd hide in the same crooks
And I'd eventually find you,
Taking cover from the same ominous cold.