#ewitty

I tried driving past her run-on sentence, but when I looked in the rearview, I knew I was but a fragment, considering reversing.

You are my muse. Without you my movements have no meaning. I'm just a half succession of poetic lines with no metrical form. I need you to make me a complete verse.

I might love you in a novel way, but I’ll love you; true story. My heart is a book you can find in the creative, non-fiction section.

Describing her was like trying to put a finger on your favorite page, when your only reference was: [location 4409854 of 9843675]. She was all Kindle, and I, slow, slow ember.

You’re strong like steel, but you still need me. I think that’s a metal called irony.

I found comfort in pages only because her arms were books not found in my library.