Never fall in love with a writer


Never fall in love with a writer
because their love comes
with a messy disclaimer,
their love is only theirs,
never yours,
(even after you’ve left them)
that way you can never escape
the repercussions of your affection,
or the lack thereof
one day they’re too stubborn
to admit they love you,
while on another day
they’ve written a poem
about your hazel eyes and
freckles on the back of your hands
like molten caramel and chocolate chips

when you fall for a writer
they will immortalize your Barcelona jersey
and faded jeans in similes,
your childhood memories
will become their business,
they will write about your PTSD,
in excruciating details as if
they felt your pain
more than you did
pity, you can’t figure out
if that makes you angry or sad

every fight or drunk text,
will find it’s way into their stories
in ways you can’t undo,
they will serenade bastard children
of your infidelity and their insecurities
into love poems, you can’t help but like,
and when you let them go,
the poems turn from petrichor
to choking fire

she will write about you
like you’re the sun, moon
and all the stars above,
her words make your love story
a Shakespearean drama
and you think you’ve found Juliet.
but her words are her Romeo,
she is drunk on Charles Bukowski
and while you’re falling for her
she’s looking for poetry
in your ocean eyed gaze
and metaphors in your heartbreak
never fall in love with a writer
because the day you leave,
you will push pain into their veins
while they draw ink from it
and push syllables on paper
because even before they say hello
they have thought of you
as another goodbye.

<a href="" data-type="post_tag" data-id="720417913">Vimal Sangam</a>
Vimal Sangam