Mr. Poet (1 of 2)

Season: Spring 2018

Location: IL and SC

This boy stood out to me because he was deep and endured so much hardship. How did I know this you ask? Upon swiping on city train in Chicago, I matched with a poet that lived in the suburbs. I was instantly drawn to the number of cities he lived in in the last 3 years. It was quite impressive, because I truly believe you don’t know a place to live there. So I instantly sparked the conversation with that and then stated that I was proud of him. To this day, I still don’t understand why I said that because I didn’t know him so how can you be proud of someone you don’t know and someone you said like a total of 17 words to. Which for me, is minuscule, since I’m very long-winded. But– I did and he was touched.

He began telling me that he was an aspiring writer and he worked on poetry daily. Fireworks filled the sky between us and we begin sharing each other’s work back and forth. I sent him poems and sonnets and he sent me fierce poems on picture backgrounds, suitable for Instagram. I don’t know much about that particular media, but I’ve got the gist of it; he said he had over 2,000 followers on Instagram and is writing a book of collaborative works.

I ended up writing a poem about his hardships and the ex-fiance that destroyed a good part of his life. I was a little bit hesitant to show it to him, but when I did, he cried and loved it. Then I took on vulnerable step. I shared with him a poem about a first-hand experience of a guy that pushed the limits that had clearly been established. There was pain threaded through the peace and it’s something I don’t share with people that know me well. For this particular event, strangers are my safety. He emphasized with me and acclaimed both my writing and my strength. He went on to promise me poems of my own one day.

We continued talking with added phone calls and Snapchat videos. He was a little rough around the edges and the product of some serious emotional abuse . We shared the same Myers-Briggs score which I found peculiar yet, we both were extremely in-touch with our emotions and aspiring poets. And every girl dreams of having it poems written about them, especially when they’re posted publicly.. Right? Maybe other girls dream of diamonds…. I’m just more sentimental than tangible things. But, to each their own.

He didn’t believe in long-distance and I had never given it a try, but he claimed I was different. He claims he didn’t care what it would take. He claimed things that girls would want to hear and were typical of a person artful with words.

We talked at night and throughout the day and even when I was on a 7-Day vacation. Then he flowed with his words, dripping with affection; alas, I got my poems.

“ no amount of distance can stifle the hunger only fed by a simple moment spent present in your eyes”
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” without your soul to ground me baby or your heart to maintain my sanity, I find myself tripping over ceilings that aren’t even there”

” she is his guide, his Phantom Traveler. Always heard, never seen. Always felt, never touched. She’s everywhere she needs her to be except present.”

” they were both batshit crazy for each other; insane as two people could be. She was a traveler, always pedaling never stopping. He was a lone fish experiencing every inch of his fishbowl. Always Worlds Apart but never far from the other’s heart. They cared enough to make it work because, the right fish will always need a bicycle.”

One of the places he used to live was Charleston, believe it or not. The same place I have resided for almost 2 years. He still maintained several friendships here and some connections for work. He said he was so unhappy in Chicago and he had so many reasons to move back to Charleston… Especially a recent addition to that list of reasons. With winky faces and allusions to a girl he “gives a shit about.”

On the next episode of Mr. Poet find out if:

He’ll move to Charleston
He’ll dedicate more poems
He’ll get a recipe of his very own on Stephanie’s Dates and Cakes.