It is an emotional suicide.
No, seriously, believe me.
Every time he declares a poem is for me-
I die in delirium!
I wish there’s a way to-
not trace his words when he’s gone
I wish it isn’t this heart-wrenching-
to fall in love and wake up we’re done
But every time I try to turn away
He always pulls me back
With the strongest string of words
He knows I have no strength to decline
He knows me. Like the back of his hands-
He knows me.
He knows I’m in love with him
I know he loves me back or maybe-
I always try to guard my heart against him
I always fail at every attempt I’ve made
And I wish I didn’t fall in love with a poet
Because now I don’t even know how to stop
Didn’t you know?
I am also a poet
Who could keep writing
© Bluesirie 20130608