If a writer
falls in love
with you,
you can truly never die.
You will be engrained in every piece created
by their hand.
Your name will echo and penetrate each thought
like a knife forcing its blade against my skin
Your name pours out and resinates in everything I do.

All writers know they must let out
the words
They claw at their insides and beg, screaming for release
To be painted and stretched across the world
Writers crave to write, you see fire
is not so easily extinguished.
I fell in love with a pyromaniac
and he lit my heart on fire.
Soon the flames consumed us both and left only ashes
of the person I had become.

Now every word I form is a part of him.
And while he pulses onward through my soul
and onto my paper
we have long since burned to the ground in a glorious, fantastic show.
It is by my hand and sentences that he lives onward
The ache he left inside me burns on, though we are dead.
Writers must write.