To be an author 

I wish I could write you a novel. 

A rich fleshy story, one you can sink your teeth into and come away with crimson on your lips and teeth. 

The kind that sits, heavy and damp in your stomach a few hours after the last page.

Those kind of books never really leave you.

I wish I could write you a novel,

it would be about everyone who had ever lived, and everyone they had ever loved. 

Despite this, it wouldn’t be very long. Let’s face it, love is more copy paste than anything else.

I wish I could write you a novel.

One with the kind of prose that sucker punches you. 

The mixed martial arts, ultimate fight club, jiu jitsu, the Conor goddamn McGregor of prose. I want to write language that fights you every step of the way. Maybe throws a right hook every so often just to keep you on your toes.

I want to write you a novel. 

Fill its pages with letters to you,

so even if you forget me, or I forget you, or maybe one day we both wake up and don’t know where we are or why we’re in love,

I can hand you a novel and say goodbye, farewell, I’ll meet you at the end of the last sentence. 

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