I’d rather write than speak
My pen is always responsive
My ink doesn’t judge my mistakes
My paper doesn’t argue
My lines never cross me
My sentences never disappoint
And my words will never leave me

when a poet falls in love with you
you can never die
they will notice the way
you rub your palms and look down
when someone is angry at you
and the way you smirk
as you pull away from a kiss

they will notice how you can't sleep
without your body touching someone else's
how you never crease any pages of books
and how you close your eyes when you dance in your kitchen
with your record player on

they will find all of the words
that they see you as
and turn them into something beautiful

people say you die twice
once when you stop breathing
and when someone says your name
for the last time

if you fall in love with a poet
they will never stop
mentioning your name
you will be alive
for eternity

I have come to realize that real love, like the love that fills you to your core, doesn’t find you when you are at your best.
Real love, the love that makes you weak in your knees. That kind of love meets you in your chaotic mess.