my writer

it is only because of you
my love, that i begin at last
to understand what it truly
means to be a writer

beyond the obvious creativity
the shrouded activity of mind
crafting eternal substance
to clothe ephemeral ideas

beyond the cleverly constructed
characters careening through
indecision and madness and fear
ever endearing themselves to me

beyond the precious peers
who inspire and guide you
and the late night hours spent
tapping away in the dark

beyond all of this and more
is your all too tender heart
sorely abused, breaking again
beneath the callous burden

of the utilitarian indifference
oh so effortlessly wielded by
petty fools who may never know
the unencumbered grace

of your soul

Laya, my beloved writer, at Westminster.

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