zpms

[zpms]

6/8/19

The first time you said you loved me was over a late night text. When those words were nothing but words, youthful and not fully developed in what they meant. Six years later you told me you loved me again. It was the day after our first date. My heart wanted to explode, I wanted to scream it out "I love you too, so much, so so much, MY GOD it's actually insane." But what if that was too much? What if I scared you away? I didn't want to use the word "love" It's so...bland, so overused. You know? What could I have said instead? That I adore you? I adore the way you smirk when you get things done your way, the way you crack senseless jokes, and use cheesy pick up lines only for me to roll my eyes at them while secretly loving them! I adore it when I catch you looking at me,  when you tell me "I am yours and you are mine", when you pull me in closer and our fingers intertwine, while we fall back into each other's safe haven. Do you feel it too? The thunder coursing through our veins? The spark in our eyes every time we get lost in just gazing at each other. Do you feel the frenzy, the madness that just wants us to embrace and feel at peace?

"I love you too" -Sent

I knew I should have phrased it differently. I knew it cause I felt it again the day you left. The same uneasiness, the same word vomit making me feel nauseous.

I should've said it then. I should have told you how I felt, from the very first moment.

I should have told you that you are the best love I have ever had. I should have told you how precious you are to me, how you make me see myself in a different light. How I can so effortlessly lay it all before you, every flaw, every insecurity, every monster that haunts me within the depths of my being, and then let your love fill every existing void. I should have told you that you make me both strong and vulnerable, like I am able to do  absolutely everything and anything and still unashamedly be myself.

You're the epitome of a perfect man- down to earth, hardworking, strong in your beliefs, brave yet soft and so caring. You're one of the strongest people I know. You don't know what you are capable of as yet. You're going to achieve it all and make your mama proud. I've seen it in your eyes, they beam like stars, beautiful yet fierce filled with passion. I've seen it when you lose your temper and keep your calm at the same time. I've seen it in the determination that you put into making something of yourself- I swear to you I have never ever loved anyone as much as I have loved you.

It's 3:06 am right now, I'm listening to "Used To" by Sandro Cavazza and Lou Elliotte and thinking of you. Tell me love, do you still think of me? On days when you aren't too busy, when work isn't the first thing you run to to forget your woes, do I cross your mind? "Time will heal" they say, but does it really? It fucks me up. I don't think I've done much "healing" to be very honest. Some days are better than the rest- days when I'm busy painting people's faces and earning a living, days when I'm too exhausted to think straight, days when I find peace in drinking my troubles away. Those are the days that help me get my mind off you for a while. It's nights like these that get to me, when I'm all alone, listening to my tunes. Just one song...one stupid song and it all comes back to me. I find myself spiraling into a playlist of songs that takes me back to you and I. It's hard to forget then, it's hard to let go.

They tell me if I really love you I should let you go. If we're meant to be together you'd come back to me no matter what, "leave it to fate" they say. Fate, you say? The same fate that bought us together and then tore us apart? Fate, that made you and I meet in a room of crowded people and made us click instantly? Fate, that overwhelmed our hearts with love and then left a void in it?

Tell me I’m wrong. Tell me you didn't feel it in your bones the first time we danced. Tell me you didn't want time to just stop at our first date, on the park bench with our neglected burgers and the taste of your lips on mine. Tell me that you wouldn't want to spend another prolonged moment in time with our arms around each other, not worrying about when we'll see each other again. Tell me it was all a lie. Tell me how our love didn't last when it was the only thing that ever felt real to me.

"I love you" - Sent

"I don’t think I can say it back" - Received

[zpms]

24/4/16

Honey, you made a mistake- you fell in love with a writer. And now be prepared to live forever in the web of her words! Ah- you see what I did there? Web-of-her-words Tsk, a metaphor. How are you not used to these by now? The metaphors, the similes, the sarcasm and oh so many hyperboles! Remember a writer's words are her babies, and her memories her assets, so be prepared, she will use them to her fullest. Don't you know that when a writer falls in love it is the intertwining of two souls. So don't hesitate whilst opening up to her. Tell her how you feel, trust me, she longs for those hour long intimate conversations. She will savour it, bit by bit. I promise you, she will listen to every word you say. Don't be shy with the details, tell her how you feel, she'll probably already know, but she wants to hear it from you. Sneaky Sherlocks, I tell you. Again...saw what I did there? Alliteration, pft. Anyway… That’s the thing about writers, they're souls who love to empathize. They'll be there to hear you out, to give you different point of views, and to annoy you with their sarcasm when your weak grammar skills make her cringe. I mean come on, who wouldn’t know the difference between “you’re” and “your” or “their” and “there” right? She loves teasing you. She does it quite often, doesn't she? Just be careful, you obviously don’t want to deal with a grammar Nazi again now, do you? But what you’ll have to deal with is a lot of drama. I’m not going to lie to you, writers are overly dramatic drama queens, living in their own fantasies, and that’s alright. Isn’t it? You need understand that whenever she’s falling apart, or bursting with joy, or raging with anger, she will write. Words are what she feeds on, stories are what make her, her…reality is merely a nightmare!Yes I'm well aware of the fact that this doesn’t sound sane, but you love a writer, don’t expect this to be sane. Trust me, you’ll be driven to a point of insanity too. Which brings me to my next point… Expectations. They're really not that much. Send her a text message to check up on her, pamper her, shower her with snuggles. They work- I guarantee. Here's the thing about writers, they usually tend to conjure up life long stories in their tiny little minds. Stories that include, impromptu ice-cream trips, cute dates, and long walks on the beach while watching the sun set and the horizon fade from pink to blue. That’s all she wants. Is that really too much to ask? However, you should also know that writers can switch from being hopelessly romantic to being completely misanthropic. There will be times when all she’ll want to do is curl up in her hammock with a good book and her cup of coffee. Those are the days she’ll want to be away from everyone and everything and live in her own little fantasy. Let her. Give her her space, she’s a writer, she needs it. Some days you'll have to hear about people and places you've never know of, she obsesses over fictional characters. Leave her be. It’ll take her time, to snap back into reality. At first it may even take her time to get used to you, and trust you enough to show you this side of her, but don't worry that’s just part and parcel of who she is. IF she does fall for you, and I'm pretty sure she already has (it doesn't take her too long) you'll be the lucky one. She tends to fall in love with the tiniest, most simplest things. Like the way your eyes light up when you talk about some thing you love, or the way you sing to her in your croaky voice, the way you confide in her and the way you crack those stupid senseless jokes. She'll paint you with her words- your freckles, your flaws, and every scar that tattoos your body. To her you are art. She will love you for the way you laugh mid kiss, And admire you when you praise your mother, and be a strong man like your father. She will love your habits, and make them hers. Her lungs will be filled with the smoke that burns yours, Her coffee, dark and bitter just likes yours, And when she sleeps, she’ll sleep for longer hours, with her sheets covering her face, just like you do. From your likes to your dislikes, your family to your friends, every minuscule detail will she embed in her mind. Don't be afraid, she isn’t a stalker, she's just head over heels for you- she’s just a writer, she's bound to explore and find out more. Exploring is essential for a writer, in every sense. When she falls in love with you she will explore you at first, then your body, your skin, the way you taste, your touch...everything; And she will write about it. Yes, be prepared to hear details…intimate details. Don’t be embarrassed, it’s just the way she is. You’ve probably already guessed by now, you’ll be one of her muses too. You may not recognize yourself, but you’ll be there, weaved in some way or another. She may even invent a whole new you, because of course replicating you wouldn't be enough. She will picture the things you could’ve done, and the words you could’ve said, but don’t get me wrong. She’ll always love you for the person you are. Even when times are rough, she’ll stand by your side. When you choose to ignore her, she’ll choose to write about you. She’ll bleed ink, but she dare not show you her work. She's just afraid. They’re a piece of her – like her pouring out her soul and all her emotions into words. It’s very difficult to express yourself and find the right words. Emotions and words go together for a writer. So remember to use your words correctly, say what you mean and mean what you say. The words you say will be her gospel, and walking away from them will be absolutely soul crushing. Honestly if you’re not willing to deal with all of that, I advise you not to fall in love with a writer. And if you’ve already fallen in love with her and are thinking of breaking her heart, good god…you’re in for a lot! Trust me you will be immortal. Be prepared to hear a lot about yourself, because like every other girl she will breakdown and cry, but she will also write. Smudged mascara and ink, crumpled tissues and paper- it's her way of letting go. She will write about you. Relive every moment to remind herself of you in every possible way – the first meeting, the first date, the first kiss, the first fight. Then, the last meeting, the last date, the last kiss, the last fight, and finally the heartbreak. As much as it will break her reminiscing about it, it will help her heal. She is a warrior. Don’t be fooled, she’s not afraid of love or you, she’s afraid of running out of words, and thankfully you’ve given her enough to write about. When you read this I hope you remember it all, I hope you know how much you meant to her. I hope you find yourself in pieces of her work. I hope it takes you back to those days when laying in each other's arms, and being loved by you is what she imagined to have been the best possible thing to have ever happened to her. And I hope you realize, that you don't have that any more, and all you are in that moment is just words. Immortalized forever. Again, you made a mistake. You fell in love with a writer. You fell in love with me. ​-zps