dating a writer
is like guessing the weather.
you think you know what you'll get,
but you never do.

you never know
because

she'll create a hero
from your weaknesses

and she'll write a great character,
from every last flaw.

she'll create a thousand plots  
from your worst nightmares.

she'll take every last thing you hate
and create something you'll love.

she'll turn your anger
into confessions of adoration,

and she'll make you,
everything you're not.

but worst of all,
she'll leave you wondering-
is it you she's in love with,
or things she's created from you?

but here's the beauty of it:

if you date a writer,
you'll never die.

This one goes to the real poets.
To those who decide to carry the world on their own.
To those who carry hell in their head and a graveyard of lost love stories in their heart
To the brave ones who fight darkness with darkness.
Tho those who the only answer they seek from a god is if there's eternal life for their loved ones, because they know there's no space for them in that paradise.
To those who know that suffering is the most humane feeling there is.
To those who loved and hated the wrong person.
This goes to Lorca isolated, hiding in a closet in New York.
To Unamuno craving to believe in something impossible.
To Quiroga drinking the poison of his sorrow at a hospital.
To Becquer and Espino for dying so young.
To Neruda for cheating on himself so many times.
To Machados' lost spirit.
To Marquez and his melancholic ******.
To Poe's tormented soul and his raven.
To Shakespeare and his Juliet.
To Dante and his story of woe.
This goes for the only beings who can live with a hell inside of them, and still manage to write heavenly things for those in need to read.
This one's for us.

Some days we shine so bright
Some days the light fades away
Is it me? Is it you?
Or is this love not meant to be at all?

time isn't the enemy.
time isn’t an enemy.
time is a friend that should be
wholeheartedly embraced.
it makes moments-
the ones you never want to end-
finite.
it makes them worth remembering
specifically because
they do not last.

time will continue even if you do not.
it’s harsh ways keep people
from feeling scars as
fresh bullet wounds. instead,
it fades.
the pain fades.
it’s a pinch, instead of a bullet that
tears your ribcage into splinters.
it’s survivable pain.
the past is the past
and the present isn't so unbearable.
the past is the past
and the future is bright.

I didn't give up on us
Though both of us are hurting
Though both of us were already tired
Though both of us grew cold toward each other
Though both of us are lying
Though both of us are not okay
I didn't give up on us
I just accepted it
That this must end
No matter how wonderful it is

You should know that
You can never understand a person fully
You can only have a slight picture of how he feels
But you can never feel it like how he is feeling it
It can never affect you
Like how it can affects him
So don't act like you know everything
Because you may know something
But not the whole thing