You did it.
Without knowing, you did it.
What I feel, without knowing, you did it.
You made it.
My heart beating fast, you made it.
What I hear, my heart beating fast, you made it.
You created it.
My mind racing, you created it.
What I think, my mind racing, you created it.
You sense it.
Without admittance, you sense it.
What I am, without admittance, you sense it, too.
Without my muse I fear I would have never learned to breathe. To write. To be me. My Muse held my hand when no one else was looking… Many of my poems are tagged, My Muse, it is, indeed, for a reason. The strength I feel is because of that sort of devotion. Imagine only needing to hear, “Hey, that was ‘easy’ to read,” from someone who also needed to hear those simple words. Tis how friendships are born…