To the poets and writers who don't know what love is yet makes poetry out of it.
Your mind waves pomes out of stories that never existed.
You look for your muse, sometimes hidden behind the quite eyesof the person you thought you could stay in love with and sometime, in the sinking feel you go through everytime you see her, away from you.
You hold on to metaphors like they are your only escape from the world where you can't be in love. You function on cups of black coffee and questions that you never get answers to, that make your story sound like a one-sided tale of love.
You look for reasons and moments that you could build on. Just differently, this time.
You write about love like it's a long-lost feeling that you can never live with.
Like it's a person, that exists, but just not for you.
You write.
You write about it, because somewhere, that hopeless romantic within you will always wish and wait for an 'I Love You' that is more than just words in your diary.
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