He asked me "Can you write about me?"
I replied "Not really"
He looked at me in astonishment "But you are a writer"
I said "Yes I am a writer but I don't just write"
"So you won't write about me?" He replied a little bit annoyed
Smiling, I told him "I'll write about you, if there's a reason to"
Surprised, he exclaimed "Do you need a reason to write about me? You have all the reasons in the world. We are in love Liza."
Are we really?
I smiled at him as I explained "I'm a writer, I write a lot. I write about experiences have had. Heartbreak. Pain. Death."
"I write about darkness. I write about the dark phenomenal of life, things that are dark and gloomy. I write about issues I'm facing. I write about issues people close to me are facing."
"When I write about someone, it's either that person is so fucking important, a true Always and Forever, perhaps my Family and some friends but you are not my Family, at least not yet and you are not my friend, you are more."
"When I write about someone, it's because the person is no longer part of my life, the person is gone, the person left either willingly or unwilligly. It's because the person is no longer part of me and in most cases, it hurts"
"The pain I feel after their depature is usually the inspiration to take my pen and write"
"So, Do you want me to write about you or are you going to give me reasons to write about you" I asked concluding
He looked at me, assimilating my words. He whispered emotionally "Don't write about me. Do not ever write about me"
Today, now, I'm writing about him. Actually I've written about him, not once, not twice and now I'm hoping I won't write about him again.
Maybe I won't.
I'm really hoping I won't.
______ ellie a.o.
YOU ARE READING
Something Mending -- VOL 1
PoetryOf Breaking hearts, young love, betrayal and pain. Of Mending hearts, familiar pain, unexpected hurt and aftermath. Of Healing hearts, underated heartache, pain and acceptance. Of Love, Love that is as deep sea. Pain, that knows no bounds. Strength...
