“I shouldn’t have fallen in love with a poet,” She said. “I wouldn’t have fallen in love with a poet had I known you would make metaphors out of my smiles, or be thinking of new ways to compare my curves to the shore of beaches when we made love, or be thinking of how the flowers you handed me weren’t a romantic gesture at all, but was the equivalent of handing me a mirror. All you ever did was think of different ways to compare me to your favorite things, off in your own little world. You were never mine at all, the only thing that is truly mine is the words you printed, and what do they mean? Do they mean anything at all?”

“I shouldn’t have fallen in love with an actress,” He replied. “I wouldn’t have fallen in love with an actress had I known how well they could hide things that were bothering them, or how well they could make nothing seem like the world, and how they could make the world seem like nothing. You can make your own little world, and make it reality. That’s something my words could never do.”