You are Folklore! Decide if you are dating or just friends with Poet (The Tortured Poets Department/TTPD).

Early one morning, right before dawn, you were seated crossed legged by the lake. There was a small lake just beside the house you shared with 10 other roommates, one of which is your sister, Evermore.

Your back was pressed against a sturdy willow tree trunk and you had a small book opened in your lap. Your quill pen dipped into the small glass ink bottle beside you before dancing across the page, filling it with whimsical stories, poems, and a large section dedicated to a made-up love triangle you found yourself writing about.

Your poems spoke of great epiphanies, never quite finding total peace, being stuck in exile, finding the one through an invisible string. You wrote of illicit affairs, about a grand house, about trying despite hard times. Knitted cardigans, summer months with that salt air, those mirrorballs that people take for granted.

This is what you loved... writing poems even if no one ever read them. But what was better was doing it with Poet at your side. Her poems were not as whimsical or dreamy as yours, but they were just as grand. Using deeper metaphors that hit you to the bone. About leaving London, begging your father for love. About believing she could fix him. About losses and loves of lives. Birds that fly for 6 years without stopping, about life back in high school, about daydreaming and wishing to be somewhere else. Poems about bars in London, bolting, small little red birds, manuscripts. Many others about actresses and doing things with a broken heart. About toxic men and goddesses.

You wrote perfectly together, occasionally sharing notes. Her words were strong, powerful... Angry. Yours were soft, airy, and full of love. Two different poets, and yet... Perfection.