"he asked if i had a muse,
oblivious inquiry.
these pictures i wrote at midnight, were combinations of he’s.
the lovers.
the thinker.
the soulmate.
the friend.
the impossible dream.
many of these verses being threaded with with metephoric descriptions of him.
subconscious writings of my feelings to him.
slowly awakened to the fact that he was more a part of me than i realized-
or i would tell him.
these words i've written as of late
were my imagination claiming my perfect imperfect he.
dopeness defined-
wondering if its you.
but knowing that your heart is elsewhere.
so i keep writing until the day comes,
when i can write these poems directly to him."
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