a love letter from a poet to an author

When we met, 

we were like 

reflections of 

each other. 

It was scary- 

I’ll admit it. 

Under nothing 

but the moon 

and the stars,

The sound of the 

sea matching 

my heartbeat- 

It was an odd 

way to meet. 

And yet we met. 

When we met, 

I knew we had 

met before. 

Maybe not in 

this life, because 

I would have 

remembered your 

foul smirk, but 

at some point on 

this rope of time, 

we have ran 

into each other. 

We have rammed 

into each other, 

shoved one another, 

ripped the carpet 

out from under 

our feet. We will 

not let each other 

stand, we refuse 

to be the only

person on the floor, 

if I fall- I am making 

you fall with me. 

Meeting you has 

been my downfall, 

you are the heel I 

play target practice 

with, you are the 

poison I take my 

medicine with. 

I had sworn off 

having another, 

I had promised the

world I would stand 

alone, and yet you 

came anyway. I know 

the stars have heard 

me swear against you 

time and time again- 

that I have and will 

always find you like a 

fly I can never swat. 

We are two people 

that are meant to find 

each other in every 

lifetime, but is it always 

too late. You will always 

be too late. It is too late

to turn you into perfection- 

I refuse to let you be 

the person I wake up to 

and go to sleep with. 

You are not my most 

pleasant dream, but 

rather the nightmare 

I cannot seem to wake 

from. I hate how I do not 

want to wake up anymore.

I hate the way 

you trip me, 

the way you push 

me into other 

directions, the way 

you make me feel

both desperate 

and composed. 

I have never felt 

so unsure about 

myself before- 

why have you 

given my heart 

this self-doubt? 

I hate how you 

move me with ease, 

how the sight of 

the tail end of your 

coat is enough 

to make me flustered. 

You have ruined me. 

I am now unsettled. 

I am now changed. 

When we met, 

I did not feel like 

I was complete. 

I felt challenged- 

like somehow, 

knowing of your 

existence made 

me feel small. 

Like I really was 

just one person in 

this vast universe 

and I hate you for that. 

I hate you for the 

way you carry yourself- 

how you stay buried 

in your notebook, 

how you match my 

eloquence with 

ferocity and I have 

never been both the 

predator and the prey 

before. They say love 

and passion is primal 

in nature. I do not want 

to be an animal, but hell, 

I've never felt like 

I was a human either. 

I hate how you upturn 

my world in a blink of 

an eye, how you carve 

your name into my heart 

with just your words, 

how your presence 

turns my lungs into 

deflated balloons. 

I hate how I can’t 

help but hate you, 

but I also hate how 

I can’t help but love you.