Him: Did you read the poetry on my blog?
Her: No I haven't got the chance.
Him: I was wondering, I think its the 5th time I ask though.
Her: I don't get why you have to be on my case though.
Him: Uhm okay let me try describe it to you then.
Him: Wait let me ask you something. If I said to you, you are alive in my writing, what would you think?
Him: What if somewhere on this planet your whole being was put on a piece of paper, ever part of you that contributes to your perfection, would you be willing to see it. Would you like to see the beauty that lies when my eyes see you in short moments?
Her: You're not making sense, you're acting kind of weird.
#He laughs
Him: The messy picture of my person would only drive you away, so lets stay together as strangers. Let's sit here waiting for the point of which this thing that encompasses me and you falls apart.
Her: I don't get what you're saying.
Him: I know but I don't know how else to put it, that's the scary thing about us writers - it's scary to realize that there are people who can understand you from a few words on paper and its saddening to realise that there are people no matter how hard you try to show the picture, they will never see the truth hidden behind the painted canvas.