If you don’t want your heart to crack and shatter—please dear one, never fall in love with a poet.
I advise you. Leave quietly by the light of the moon, and do not falter or look back.
If you don’t listen to these words and you stay, then rest assured, you will have no choice but to face the consequence—and you will never recover from the lingering effect of their ruthless affection.
They will open you up, tear into your soul and take the air from your lungs with the passion and force of a wandering forest fire.
Poets won’t blink as they watch you burn from the depth, strength and intensity of the flames that rage uncontrollably from the heat of the roaring, wild, unbridled love they unleash upon you.
Instead they will gaze at you with awe and admiration, as you nestle further into their intoxicating mixture of sensual pleasure and pain.
But I warn you, do not get lost in those curious, extraordinary brightly flickering eyes. They are capable of hypnotizing hardened warriors, melting rib-cages laced in ice and cutting through hearts solidly made out of stone and steel.
Take this warning, and don’t ever stop in your tracks if you meet with a poet.
They have the strangest way of seeing straight through you to the hidden interior of your bones. There is nothing that will make them turn or flinch. Poets somehow twist each inch of our madness and every imperfection, insecurity or flaw into an exquisitely unique piece of timeless, achingly stunning art.
Poets are ones to beware of. They keep you trapped in a snare delicately disguised as a hand-stitched, rough-edged notebook.
All of those emotions you have spent your life denying, rejecting and burying because you would rather not feel—a poet will find and expose them. They will bring them to the surface. There will be no escape and you will be forced into feeling and experiencing life fully alive.
Yes, you will see roses, of course—but there are also hidden thorns, and I can assure you that you’ll bleed if you don’t heed my words.
Poets are alchemists, so they must know magic. They see light in our dark. They peer into our minds and telepathically know what we’re thinking. They even know how to translate the invisible signals that our fluttering hearts send out.
Those mysterious ones who play with poetry, while you sleep, find shadows and charred minds fascinating and intriguing. They will tell you that you are a rare, mesmerizing gemstone, one-of-a kind, and that your quirky, kooky ways are endearing. They’ll cherish your faults, your messy lines, and they’ll trace their fingers with care along your crooked curves. They will entice you into believing that you are their whole goddamn universe—and my god, they have the charm to convince you that if you have faith you can fly.
This is why it’s important to keep that precious mind and heart of yours guarded and far from a poet’s grasp. Those delicate treasures will never be safe and still in their hands.
Poets have forced fierce ripples to run riot through the veins of the calmest ocean. I’ve seen them light up the coldest, bleakest nights with ricocheting words that fire like lightning bolts across the sky.
Poets are addictive. They move through you, while etching their imprint under your skin.
Stay on the far side if they pass. Keep your distance. The flames of their love will consume you.
Because when a poet loves, they forever leave fragments of their tragic trails wherever they go. You will recognize their melodic, melancholic ink-stained mark and that chapter you shared will never close.
I tumbled and hopelessly fell hard for a poet a long time ago.
He made an eternal vow to write, so that he could keep us alive.
In return, I surrendered and made a foolish vow to read.
I’ll never recover. I will never be free…
I am haunted and taunted and tethered to him. I have my regrets and I cannot—I will not—ever be able to forget him.
I have nightmares—and though I’m terrified to love so intensely, I yearn and keep returning to him for more.
Be warned. Resist and retreat now. Don’t get engulfed and entangled.
Keep your steadily beating, fragile heart securely anchored, armored and locked safely away.
Author: Alex Myles
Image: Instagram @aud.a.koch
Editor: Yoli Ramazzina