Don’t fall in love with a poet.
Don’t fall in love with a poet
because we tend to be morose.
We see the world for what it is,
not through glasses tinted with rose.
Don’t fall in love with a poet
because I, for one, am a perfectionist,
and if I see a mistake I’ll try to fix it,
and I’ve learned that people don’t like that.
Don’t fall in love with a poet
because we’re sometimes spiteful and cruel;
writing stanzas of anger and never explaining
what’s wrong - that’s an unwritten rule.
Don’t fall in love with a poet
unless you want pages devoted to you.
Unless you want woken up at 4 a.m.
to be told the sunrise feels like your skin.
Unless you want to wait ten minutes
while they find the right word to describe
the color of your eyes when you look at the sky.
Unless you want to be the one they’re always
asking, “Why, why, why, why, why
does this happen? Why is this how it is?
Explain the world to me so I can tell you
everything from my perspective.”
That’s how poets live.
Mostly, don’t fall in love with a poet
because we don’t know when to quit.
Not when it comes to love, and definitely
not when it comes to writing about it.
