When you date a writer
You will be written about.
Bad, good, middle of the road,
It’s inevitable.
When you date a writer
Never say to her:
“You can’t write about this.”
She’ll consider it a dare.
When you date a writer
Be prepared
To have your imperfections adored,
Your mannerisms memorized.
If that writer is also a poet,
Tread carefully.
Understand there was something about you that drew her in
And that she’s not shaken off easily,
When there’s love involved.
She won’t run;
She’ll dig her heels in
Hope to understand you
Every dirty, hidden detail.
When this poet loves you
It’s because she sees something
In you
Something she needs.
If she looks in your eyes
And sees something missing
Or broken
She’ll try to fix it
Or replace it
Or just take on your feelings
Like a chameleon taking on the color of a branch or leaves.
Without really noticing
She’ll turn into someone other than herself
And be exactly who you want her to be
Just to keep you
For a while.
If it goes on long enough,
She’ll forget who she was
Without you
And fade away
Happily lost in smells and taste and touch.
When you love this poet
And then decide to fade away yourself
A ghost
She bleeds purple ink
All over pretty notebook pages
She bleeds words
All over anonymous blogs
She loves you and hates you and dissects the whole fucking thing
It’s seventh grade science class all over again
Your affair is the frog,
Body cavity cut open
Exposing all the gory insides
To be poked at, pushed around
Examined apprehensively.
What once was vibrant and full of life
Is reduced to a cold, slimy mass,
Cause of death:
Unknown.
And the purple ink flows on and on.
When you date/love/leave a writer.
by Julie Blue 
ouch!
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