they warned me about boys that stay late at night in that empty streets of nevada, boys with chinky yet with wide cinnamon eyes, fashioned with ragged cut jeans, dog tags and wild hair. the kind that can take you to museums and later on hotels, the one that can take you to diners and later on you're the one being serve as a flavor for their craving dry mouth.
but they NEVER warned me about boys bearing suitcases and tuxedos. the one with wine-tainted lips, carrying scratched up journals and unsent love letters. i never knew that there are dangers on boys who speak metaphors, and the one who can breathe verses. i was not oriented that it's grievous to swim together in their placid yet risky ocean of words.
i can't say with any conviction that he won't venture me in his false universe, but his poetries dominated the sky, all his syllables put stardust on my starless chest, and the cosmos was filled with stories of how much he can love me.
as i began deciphering a poet's work understanding all the untold stories skinned in his saccharine ode of fairytales. i swear, that those song was written for me not until that string became out of tune, and i heard the pained stillness felt like in the mislaid song of a mermaid. we danced on the floor of his every poesy not until every prose bent and has been broken like a feet of a dancing ballerina.
they told me to stay away from boys caryying skateboards with a pair of golden teeth, but they didn't cautioned me about boys who can write.
:nowi 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐫𝐡𝐲𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐜𝐚𝐧 hammer hearts too.