angel monarch, a world famous poet, gets asked to help write a song with finneas o'connell and billie eilish after moving to new york. the only problem is, angel's identity is hidden.
writing a song proves pretty difficult but they make it work.
o...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Cara seems to still be asleep so i send her a text, letting her know i'm going out while i wait for my uber.
i snap a photo of my vans sending it to billie.
bambi
these still give off lil dick energy? *insert image of black vans*
she doesn't really, obviously because she's in a meeting and i lock my phone, throwing it into my bag.
because my identity has been revealed, i'm being watched like a hawk and there seems to be paparazzi everywhere.
there's some paps outside the offices and snap photos as i walk inside, probably getting my bad angles and double chin.
i greet the receptionist, trudy, who gives me a warm smile and walk towards lisa's office.
she's on the phone when i walk in, holding her finger up to indicate she needs a minute.
i plop down onto the chair, grabbing my notebook and flicking through some of the pages. this isn't my original notebook, it's just the one i brought on tour with me.
there's a couple i wrote about falling in love, imagining someone else watching billie and me share our secret moments together and seeing us falling.
i don't always write from my own personal experience, i try and write about things which can relate to everyone, and some things that can relate to multiple things and one thing all at once.
poetry can be as simple or as complex as you want it to be but i also think it depends on who you are as a person, what you've been through.
sometimes i read my poems which we're supposed to be about something, and re-reading them in a different mindset changes that.
i'd quite like to imagine someone else being the same. reading my poems at different times of the day, different stages in their life and experiencing a whole different emotion.
i'd like to hope my poems save people.
"okay, do you have any idea of the order?" lisa pulls me out of my thoughts as she's laying out sheets of paper over her desk.
"no, i don't even know if i want all of them in"
"that's why we're here, amber is coming down in an hour to help us if we need it and talk about the cover"
everything is moving so quickly and i wasn't expecting it to start now.
"okay, what are those?" I point to the various sheets on her desk and with a closer look I realise that they're my poems, the photos I'd taken of my old notebooks and sent to her.
