It's like I can't write poems about you
No matter how much I want to

My trail of thought goes, eyes, eyes, what rhymes with eyes?
You have pretty eyes, I like your eyes. And so the poem dies
Or I'll be writing a line about your hair, your perfect hair
And my brain just stops working, it just isn't fair!

To be loved by a writer
Is to be immortalized
You will live on forever in her writing
Your quirks,
Your ideas,
Your insecurities,
Writers notice everything
And we never forget
You might catch her smiling at you
For what seems like no reason at all
But she's just trying to describe
The exact color of your eyes

To be loved by a writer
Is to have your entire relationship in written word
All you have to do is read and re-live everything again
Your first kiss,
Your first fight,
Your first date
Nostalgic memories in chronological order
And you may even learn something you never knew
Since everything will be in her point of view

To be loved by a writer
Is to see her frustration
Because she wishes she could be an artist
Since no words serve you justice
She wishes she could just paint a picture
And then they would understand
Because no amount of words could perfectly depict
Your hair sticking up,
Your abundance of freckles,
You wearing glasses
She gets upset when she thinks
She'll never fully portray all the things you say and do
But she'll never run out of ways to say "I love you"

To be loved by a writer
Is to be eternal
And to never fully disappear
And no matter what, she'll see you everywhere
Even when she opens her mind and escapes reality
Because she is the writer
And you are her writing
For you own her heart
From which her words flow

i write the best
when i am sitting alone in my room
and thinking of you
i write best
when you are the footsteps
inside my head
traveling the spiralling staircase of my consciousness
and you are about to
jump
i write best
when i am spinning and marveling, and just sighing your name
into an empty room
i fill it up with your essense
i bottle you up
then i spit you out
through words on a piece of paper,
i evacuate every other thought in my head
and i,
breathe you in
i write best when i am alone in my room
and
i feel best when i am alone in my room
with you

love; something everyone wants
but no one knows what it looks like.

#life; something everyone has
but no one knows how to use it.

#sad
  #depression
    #pain
      #death; for when poets get ‘the feels’

      #heartbreak #you #him #her #heart
       Poets who fall in love fast with the
       Same reckless abandon that made
       You climb all the way to the top.
       Those scars used to make you cry
       Now they make you write.