There's a difference between being in love,
And romanticizing your life away.
Because with romanticizing,
You tend to forget that the one you claim to love
Might not always be your other half.
With romanticizing you fantasize
That they're the Bonnie to your Clyde.
The ink to your pens.
The partner to your crime.
The words to your story.
And you make up all of these scenarios in your head:
Parking-lot slow dances in the rain at night.
Sunset picnics in an open field,
Sharing a blanket to watch the sunrise.
You tend to fall in love with the obsession of falling.
The addiction of pretending
That the one you claim to love,
Is in all of those fantasies,
When they're not.
You feel indifferent to them in real life.
Yet you put them up on a pedestal
Made of all precious metals and jewels,
Crowing them with a crown
Of a thousand selfish wishes.
Knowing that in real life,
Their reality exists in only words of ink.
But with love,
Being in love,
Feeling love,
And knowing love,
You know that the one you love
Already makes you feel happy
While also being content.
You know that they're not on a pedestal
Of fine metals and jewels
They're at your side
Holding your hand in real life
Leading you through the chaos of your mind
They're at your side
Making each little moment feel special
Like drawing in chalk on a driveway
Like waking up to know they stayed on the phone
Like waiting for you after class gets out.
You know that with them,
Everything you do is special and loved.
You're not sticking them into a role they won't play.
They'll make their own stories with you.
Alongside you.
They're the Bonnie to your Clyde
The ink in your pens
The partner in your crime
And a writer in your story
They make the scripts alongside you
Go as you go
And see the world you as see it.
I feel bad for the book girls.
YOU ARE READING
My Unofficial Truths
PoetryI write poetry. So you're good? I didn't say that. I write poetry. So you can rhyme? I don't always. I write poetry. So you tell stories? Every time.
