my mother always said "don't fall in love with a poet" they pretend to love you but what they really love is writing about loving you you are mere words to them feelings cheapened by a page, dusty grey typewriters, and many unfinished drafts of lovers both old and new, you are the question mark, but not the answer, they are searching for ? person unidentified: mystery the page wanderer, each poem a missing person poster to cover their bedroom walls. they cannot love something that is in their head poets are the loneliest of all people, my mother said. they write to immortalize what has long passed. to live within their words, but not reality, lost souls writing suicide notes and proclaiming it art.