For their love is fleeting, like the ink on a page. Until the words dry up and the ink runs out.
Their words will be the sweetest poison you’ll ever taste and once you’ve taken that first sip, you’ll be hooked. You will be enamored by the way they see the world, the way they can take the mundane and make it magical. You’ll become a character in their story, a muse for their art. You’ll be the ink in their pen, the inspiration behind their every word.
At first, it’ll be magical. They’ll weave tales of love and romance, painting vivid pictures with their words. You’ll feel the warmth of the sun on your skin and the soft touch of their lips on yours. You’ll lose yourself in the worlds they create and you’ll be grateful for every moment.
But then, it’ll start to hurt. You’ll see yourself in their stories and you’ll realize that the happy endings aren’t always meant for you. You’ll read between the lines and see the pain and the struggle, the heartbreak and the loss. You’ll wonder if you were ever really loved at all, or if you were just a plot device to move the story forward.
You’ll watch as they pour their heart and soul into their writing, leaving nothing left for you. They’ll stay up late into the night, scribbling in notebooks or typing on their computer. They’ll stare off into space, lost in thought, trying to find the perfect way to express themselves.
They’ll forget anniversaries and birthdays, lost in their own world of words, for they will always belong to their words. They will always be chasing the perfect sentence, the perfect story, the perfect ending. They will always be searching for the right words to capture the beauty and pain of life.
And while you will always be a part of their stories, their words will never truly belong to you. Their words will be the legacy they leave behind, the mark they make on the world. Their words will be the truest expression of who they are and what they feel. You’ll see the beauty in their writing, the way it can move mountains and change lives.
So don’t ever fall in love with a writer, unless you are willing to be a part of the story they tell, even if it’s not the story you want to hear. Unless you are willing to let them be who they are, even if it means they will never belong entirely to you. Unless you are willing to love them for their words, even if it means to be ripped off and immortalised in ink and paper.