To whom this may concern,
I wished for it!
I cried for it!
I almost died for it!
Nobody shows me love!
Not from the people I like at least.
I waited all my life.
God would give me no love.
Now I am reckless.
Where can I find her?
I am tortured by it.
Now I can not live without it.
Please someone tell me it is alright.
No one will say anything sincere.
It just plays into my childhood.
At least that is a professional point of view.
I say it is pointless!
Why talk about the past when you do not want to relive it?
I am like anybody else.
I have a fantasy and I want to live it.
I am sorry I am using “it” a lot.
I am just venting.
I have a few things wrong that makes me not go into the public.
I can not take any more.
Yes I have my eye on a few.
The intuition that they do not like me always creeps in.
I was hoping to become a writer too.
I guess there is nothing more to do.

Hands that only reach for you when you turn to leave, whispers that only say your name when you turn up the music and shut the world out...love that only rears it's head in their hearts when you give up on feeling anything beyond hunger; such is the fleeting nature of man. Noah_arkenswagg

Dear You,
If you are reading this
Whoever you are
I just want to let you know
I am so proud of you
you've come so far
and I love what you are writing

keep going

From,
Your fellow Writer

The broken hunch back
Yellow, wrinkled, and withered with age
Not a single fraction of his formerly radiant youth remaining
Choughs up a few more
Words to throw on a page
Desperate to rack up more followers
...

I met Ms. Brooks just today
Her voice sounded so bright
Filled with pain, and hope, and life
showing darkness, not just the light

She sat me down and showed me her tools
They had all kinds of names.
Like "Volta" and "Cacophony"
Not a single one sounded the same

Then she showed me "kitchenette"
Hammered, filed, and whittled to be
it showed a world that stifled any thought
of Hope, or Want-- It startled me

I shook her hand and took her work
Filing it in my brain
Trying to remember all those words
So that the power remains

Try to write away
My love for you but I still
Feel it in my heart

Falling for a writer is a venture
Whose destination is so indeterminate , as to travel the infinity and beyond to only realise you haven't moved an inch , also to have been still and been carried to around to eternity !
As baffling my words sounds so is the very thought of falling for a writer!

They could read in between the lines yet sometimes fail to see the perceptable words in those lines,

The little things they notice are like the million piece puzzle of the alluring picture they paint!
Only to discern how much it would break them to realize a piece is missing from picture!

We don't fall for them we live through them
Most of us as a chapter in their book
Only a few to have been the witness to their exhibit!!

Don't fall for a writer as it's a venture to the unknown