The Man Who Writes My Poems

He’s written over 500 poems

My hand, my pen, my paper, my heart,

but,

who is he that dwells through these words?

He is a romantic, everlastingly hopefully so, through disappointment, heartbreak, and setbacks, he is passionately and forever a romantic.

He knows no emotion too vulnerable to share. His heart, his soul, is open with ever word he writes.

He courageously embraces all desires, no matter the obstacle standing between he and that desire.

He knows sorrow, and his pen is quick to express it, so that through his words sorrow may avoid you.

His sadness is never hidden, the occasional prose is dripped with his tears, though every stanza overflows with a subtle optimism…with the poets smile.

He loves boldly, a pure love only limited by the ink left in the pen.

He is the best of me.

He is the worst of me.

He is the me I want to give to the world, or the me I want to be someones world, the one true me

but,

as if trapped in a lyrical guardhouse,

he lives within my poems.

The poet, I am.

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