Love In Ink

The act of writing has always brought me solace. It's the way I've figured out how to deal with problems over which I have no control. I can make words work for me on paper when they fail me in real life. For my own benefit alone, I am capable of painting metaphors that reflect my emotions and distort reality into something more delicate and lovely.

Upon first meeting you, I did just that. There was a time when you were already a work of poetry. Your grin and the radiance in your eyes as you spoke about the things you loved inspired me to write. I managed to freeze moments in time, as if the words had the power to entice you to remain.

The limitations of language are, nevertheless, not insurmountable. I could use you as the subject of a thousand exquisite poems, but it wouldn't guarantee you'd read any of them. Your feelings for me would remain unchanged regardless of whether you read every word or not. Even if I were to write you a love poem, it wouldn't be enough to win your heart.

What I've realised is that no amount of flowery language or vivid images can make someone fall in love with you. No amount of writing will ever win someone over. Perhaps it is the most challenging aspect of being a romantic writer. You can make something lovely with your feelings, but you can't make someone love you the way you really want them to.

That knowledge carries with it an air of powerlessness. Even if I put my heart and soul into a poem, it will still only be words. It won't alter the reality that your feelings are different. Even yet, I continue to write. As much as I would like to, there is no way for me to overcome the physical separation between us; instead, I find solace in writing.

Perhaps it is the strength of poetry. It's more important to achieve contentment inside yourself than to try to change the heart of another person. I may not be able to force you to love me, but I can certainly convey the emotion of love. Plus, perhaps, that's sufficient.

Not because I believe it will win your affection, but because it allows me to express my emotions, I will continue to convert you into poetry. I don't care if it's biased or never appears in print as long as it's real. If I'm lucky, I'll meet someone who loves me just as much and compose a poem about them. In the meanwhile, though, I want to keep penning my thoughts, even if they remain private.

No matter how beautifully I pen sentences about you, based on how you make me feel, I will never be able to win your affection.