Do not adore her because she will never believe you when you look into her eyes and say that she is beautiful.

Do not crave her because she will never trust you when you say that you feel forever in her touch.

Do not cherish her because the time you get to spend with her will never be enough.

But most of all, do not love her because she will never love you half as much as she hates herself.

Find a Poet Not a poser, not a "it's just a hobby" poet. Find one who mumbles lines as they scramble for a pen at breakfast; who shakes their head randomly when their thoughts aren't rhyming properly;  who has notebooks stashed around the house that you must never touch.
2. Listen Savor the spoken words, for those are harder to express. Keep in mind that they can't be edited and re-written, and be forgiving when a mistake is made.
3. Read The body speaks as loudly as words on a page do. When their eyes are closed or focused on the ceiling and the fingers are tapping out syllables, recognize the unique process. Respect the need for quiet, because if you look closely, you can read the poem on their face before they write it on the page.
4. Write Write your story together. Grab hold of the pen and hang on as you move across the page of life. Sometimes you will dance across, others you will be dragged. You may have to cross out a word, or a line, or a page, but don't give up. Discouragement is a poet's biggest enemy, inarticulateness their biggest fear. So end each day with a semi-colon, because the story will never end the way you think it will, and there must be room for more. There is always room for more, more words, more laughter, more tears, more love,
When you love a poet.

do not date a girl
who writes.
she will internalize
everything,
carve poems
into your eyelashes
instead of
kissing them,

she will analyze you,
calculate age
from the rings
your coffee cup
leaves
instead of refilling it.

she will memorize
the way your
lips curl around steam,
but not that you
take it
two sugars,
no cream.

she will read your
palm instead of
holding it
against her chest.

she will not
blink
when you leave,
because she is
already
romanticizing it.

I'm never quite sure who it is that I
Love
Do I love you
Or do I love the thought of you
A question that will constantly
Linger
In my mind

Ironic isn't it?
A poem about poetry?
A small thing talking about
The larger thing that is makes up.

But that's what poetry is.

Poetry is made up of words
That people are afraid to say,
Yet yearn to write because
Everyone needs to let the words escape.

Poetry is a collection of poems,
Which are a collection of words,
Which are a collection of thoughts,
Which are a collection of ideas.

Poetry is a collection of everything that makes a person who he is.

So, yes, this is a poem about poetry
Because poems are about expression
And desire,
And the desire to express.

That's what I have,
A desire for expression.
So, I'm expressing my desire
By writing a poem about poetry.

Poetry is the small thing that makes up the big thing.
That big thing is me,
And people around me.

And we make up the world.

i want to tell you about lost poems.
about how the scars on my neck
used to tell stories of an angel
singing into my skin and every
time they burn i feel myself dying
in her arms all over again.
i want to tell you about the
endless pages and colored notes
and backs of cigarette packs i
wrote her name on, and how each one of them
ended up in my bruised fingertips
clutching her waist.
i want to tell you about the time
she set my lungs on fire with her
snow cold skin; how she blew
stardust into my nostrils and i
spiraled into dark addiction.
i want to tell you how i craved her
beauty like a dead man craved the oxygen that
once flowed through his veins-
i'll tell you how i crave her still.
i want to tell you about lost
poems, how they never really
come back to you. how all you
can do is sit on the floor and write about them
until there's nothing left but
dried ink and a hollow ache in the
parts she kissed you most.
she is my lost poem.