How could I fall for a poet?

Knowing how they maneuver
Needing of their space
Free spirits in the purest sense of the word
Constantly in reflection
Instead of being with the one they cherish

Persona that has buried admirable angels
In my past
Who have tried to beckon me into their lives

In reality I should know better
With all the anguish I have caused
Yet I still cannot answer the question

How could I fall for a poet?

When I know the mood swings
The lashing out at others who offer ideas
On how to break out 
Of that dreaded writer's block
Falling for those heartfelt words and phrases
That comes so simple and free to them
How could I get caught up?
In this boomerang of irony…

How could I fall for a poet?

All I can recognize
Is a poet knows a poet
They know when the flow is running
At a Niagara Falls type pace
And when it becomes as dry
As the Mohabi in the summer

They know when to speak
And when not to

They are blessed with the power
To look into the quiet storm
Of another poet's mind
And form some type of understanding
Of what they are viewing

They feel what you feel 
Before you have experienced it

So when I think to myself at times
How could I fall for a poet?
I think about these qualities
Look deep inside and tell my spirit

Very, very easily…