I might be ******* if you ever find all of my poetry about you.

Don't ever fall in love with a poet
because they will indeed admire and watch your every move
they will write about how the pen marks on the side of your palm when you write
don't ever because they will trace
every single freckle you have on your face and
write about the color of each and every one of them and
describe how they smile so brightly under the sunlight
they will want you to want to know every little thing about them
even if it's just what hand they write with and want you
to be wondering why they write with that specific hand when in
reality it doesn't even matter

the poet will watch the way you dig
your eyes onto that book and your small quick remarks onto the 26 letters all crumpled together and will know that everyday at 5:28 p.m. you smile

they will look deeply into your eyes
to see if they can at least take a little
peak of your soul and they will write
about you like if you were the only
thing they see good in this world

they will want to know what you think
about when you look at them and
see if you also count each and
every freckle and hope and write  
that you do but they will
love you endlessly and they will
show you that they love you and only you

but don't date a poet if you aren't
capable to watch them and
admire their imperfections
when they sleep late at night
beside you.

j.f

Dear society,

I have no "thigh gap"
nor any desire to wear makeup,
but I am still as beautiful
as the cover model on the
Sports Illustrated swimsuit edition.

Make sure to include me in the next issue.

Sincerely,
Wistful Wanderer

Sweetheart, calm down.
You're not in love
nor do you love me.
you don't want to,
I won't let you.

I'm complicated.
I'm a mess.
After being too in love
with someone else.
I fell in love with my own company.
a little too much,
you could say.

So even your sweet talk
and candy.
Your long walks
and perfect goodbyes
aren't enough for me to
leave the comfort of knowing
that if i don't try
my heart won't break.

If a rose doesn't bloom
then the petals can't be
ripped off. The rose will
just be protected
by thorns and dirt.

Calm down, sweetheart
Please, calm down.
I don't love you.

I hope* she teaches you the meaning of loving someone to death.
I hope you lose sleep talking to her, and then later that night when you can't stop thinking about that one thing she said, just keep replaying it in your head until sleep washes you into its sea.
I hope she brings back the faith you lost in people.
I hope you let her mess your hair up, even though you can't even stand the wind wisping softly through the strands.
I hope you memorize her favourite lines in movies and songs.
I hope hearing her cry makes you want to go to the ends of the earth to hear her genuinely laugh again.
I hope she's the calm to your storm and the colour to the, sometimes grey, life you lead.
Most of all, I hope you love her passionately, devotedly, selflessly, and without reason or hope.
Because then you'll finally realize, that's the way I loved you.