Recovery

He Is Poetry

I tend to turn people into poetry before I even touch them and for that, I'm sorry. I'm sorry I turned your eyes into a haiku about the ocean; about how they crashed into me and dragged me under before I could take a breath. I'm sorry I turned your kisses into an epic about the hero that saved the entire city single-handedly with his lips of satin gold. I'm sorry I turned your heartbeat into ink spilling out of pens and fresh sheets of paper. I could write a library full of stories about each second your skin touched mine and I felt like I was on fire. I could write a novel about how we first met in the back of a bar and how your sweet kisses drowned the bitterness of the liquor that stained your lips. I could also write about how I've spent every day drunk off my ass trying to taste you again before you disappear completely. I could write sonnets about how your smile just made me feel like I was stuck, like I couldn't get past you. I knew I would spend years trying to burn the feel of your fingers out of my skin. people write about love and how good it feels. They write about Heath weak and how it feels like you're shattered across the floor. Nobody talks about how heartbreak feels like you're drowning and the feeling you get when you try to put your feet on solid ground but there's nothing there. Nobody talks about how some days you feel like you're soaring and the next everything seems to be crashing down around you. Nobody talks about how love isn't magical as it seems, how it's sleepless nights and tears staining bed-sheets. How heartbreak makes you stronger, how one day you wake up and it just doesn't hurt anymore. I usually am not a writer but I just can't stop fucking writing about you. I want to spend my life telling people how your lips against my neck felt like Sunday mornings and warm coffee and clean bed-sheets and how I felt so goddamn safe in your arms. I think if home weren't four walls and a bed, it would be you. I think you are the one place I don't want to escape from. I want to scream from the rooftops how you smell like roses and lilac soap and fresh rains I want to sell 20 million copies of a book telling how your stupid little grin makes a thousand birds erupt in my stomach and eat away my insides, how when i think of it, I can't help but giggle to myself. people write about close. People write about being broken. I'm sorry I am one of them. There aren't enough powerful words to describe to you how I feel and how badly it hurts when I see you with your hand on her back. I'm sorry for turning you into poetry when I first met you. When a writer falls in love with you, you never die. And you're a person who deserves to be remembered for eternity. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry.