there are some people you just can’t write about
not because you don’t love them or want to give them a peice of your soul to hold and understand,
it’s because you’re fucking scared.

the idea of writing them into flowery language and honest poetry is so disgusting because fuck
this person is so fucking beautiful,
they’ve got a smile so pretty that could make a bitch cry and kisses that could make me melt faster than I thought possible,
and you just know that if you even try to write this person every time you lift you pen you’ll be disappointed
because you wouldn’t have been able to even put an ounce of this person’s magic into your words,
and all you want to do when you look at that person is write,
for hours and hours about the smallest things like,
how they’ve got the most beautiful smile, and how they’re so honest and vulnerable with you,
and how they make you so stupidly happy over the dumbest shit,
but the second you pick up a pen you just fucking can’t.

and you hate yourself for hours
but this person will look at your ugly poetry and
tell you you’re adorable and kiss you in a way that’ll make you never want to stop writing.

-december, 16

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