Only read my poetry with an open mind, an aching heart, and fiery soul- then and only then will you will be able to recognize the rate at which my heart beats for people who do not feel the same for me anymore. It’s still as if every I love you I have ever said still means something, and every lover I have ever invited into my arms has never left and in some ways- they never will. I’m now left spilling ink on a page writing words you’ll become to know as your own because when we imagine other people's lovers we always envision them as our own. So who is it you’re thinking it about? Do you love them? Do they love you back? It’s okay if the answer is no, more times than often love is an activity that needs to be felt alone. That’s the horrible truth about love; people always want you until you’ve gone too far to be pulled back in.