I feel as though this is a long time coming. I have wanted to write this to you for so long and now the time is right.
Alright so here’s the thing about I love the most about you… You can be tricky. A person can’t just read you once. They need to read you over and over again to catch every little bit of your genius. They have to read you silently in their heads. They have to read you out loud and slowly. Read you softly, mumbling the words to themselves. And they can’t ignore your titles. Those are so fucking important. Are they before you start or after? How much have you changed now that they’ve added in the title? Don’t ignore the title.
When I took my creative writing class in college (cause hell, yeah I did, I loved my professor and I took it with my best friend) I learned so much about you. She taught us that there is a right way and a wrong way to read you. That any little thing can affect you. It is a fucking art form, it is. I love you. I always have. And I always will.
Now I know I said there is a right way and a wrong way, but I don’t think there is a perfect formula to read you because not everyone likes you. Which is totally ok! You are allowed to now like it (Just don’t be a prick about it). Cause I love you enough.
I find something freeing in you. You can have strict guidelines and rules but at the same time none at all. You can be about literally anything you want. Love, heartbreak, sex, art, hate, food, colors, emotions, a building. You name it. You can be about anything at all. I can let out everything I hold in with you. You let me express the emotions I feel that I don’t understand. I can write about the things that make people blush (my favorite kind) with you.
Oh, my dear, I am in love with you. And I hope you know that. This was so long overdue. But now I am righting a wrong.
To all the poetry and poets in the world: