Teardrops Turned To Words

Writer

I am a writer. I see everything. You may not think so, but I do.

I see your smile, and though it is happy and warm it is not real. I know this because not only do I see your smile, but I see your eyes. They are sad and hidden and clouded over with despair. Those immensely complex eyes of yours, they've so much sorrow it's frightening.

And if your eyes are filled with such melancholy feelings it makes me wonder if your thoughts are the same. Or perhaps even worse.

I am sorry. For I am a writer and writing is what I do, I'm not sure I know how to fix, but I can try.

I am a writer and I can only try and make your smile real, your sad eyes bright with joy and your mind fill with happy thoughts. And I can only do this with what I know how to use: words.

I'll tell you stories. Stories of far off lands full foreign people and  unknown creatures. I'll describe every little thing from the way the hero graciously swings their sword down to the little daisy that blooms between the cracks of the concrete road. I'll describe it in detail, so you may fall in love with the stories as I do.

I'll recite poetry to you. Poetry from all the great writers before me. Silly poetry that will make you laugh so hard you can hardly breathe, beautiful poetry that will make you smile softly, poetry that will make you really think and open your view on everything, and will change your perspective. And most of all, poetry that will make you freeze for a moment to grasp the pure truth yet confusion of it because it makes perfect sense yet none at all, but somehow, someway, you understand it completely; I'll read that to you the most because it is, over all, my favorite kind. I hope it will be yours too.

I'll write you notes every single day. Filled with words of love from me to you. Words that will have you smiling to yourself, as though you know a secret no one else does. These words of mine will make your heart leap and cause the butterflies in your stomach to flutter madly. These words, oh these magical, wondrous words, will prove to you just how much I care, and just how deeply you're loved.

But if all of my words, all of my twenty-six letters strung together in different orders, cannot help, I'll be there for you. My heart will always be here to love you, my hand will always be yours to hold and my lips will always be yours to kiss.

I am a writer. A writer who has found themselves in love with someone blue and sad eyed. And a writer who is in love owns not a word they write, for that belongs to someone far greater, the person they love.

So here I sit writing these words for only you, my beautiful lover with the sad eyes, fake smiles and dark mind. Let this be known, for I cannot say it in any other way;

I. Love. You.

Written at 1:11 a.m. cause I couldn't sleep. -prin