when a poet falls in love
it's not the normal, monotonous love that others experience
it's an explosion of overused metaphors
and sentences with no meaning

it's more about how they'd name stars after you
and kiss you in hurricanes that could destroy cities
it's not about how they came to fall in love
but about the first poem they wrote about you

you become the poem
you become the words scribbled down on paper
words only the poet truly understands

you become the cigarette they're dangerously addicted to
and how with every inhale and exhale a little bit of their
short lived life is given to you

tidal waves, earthquakes and full moons
start seeming miniscule to
summer showers, tiny vibrations and distant stars shining in the night

a poets love is surprising