This is the story about the poet who fell in love with the drummer. She knew she loved him when she noticed his laugh, and the color of his eyes. She knew she loved him when she first watched him play the drums; and saw the purest bliss radiate from his body like sunlight. He loved her too, but not in the same way that she loved him. He just wanted to see her smile, but she wanted to see their future. And she spent forever trying to understand him, trying to accept that he was this way and probably always will be.
And even though she fought hard, they lost touch; mutual love was unattainable. But she keeps their connection alive with her words, as she still writes about him everyday.
The only advice she could ever give a drummer now is to never love a poet, because even after all this time your name is still scrawled across her page forever, and the song you once played for her only lasted for a minute.