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i wish i could show you what ive made in inspiration of you
the poetry, the drawings, the writings ive created so meticulously and with such care
i only took so much care into it because it was of you
you inspire me like no one else has before
never before could i be so thoughtful and insightful in my writings, never before could i have creation from the innerworkings of my soul
i could never, until you came along and with ease i create and piece together out of the vast emotions i feel for you
a muse is what you are
my muse
just the simple thought of you makes my fingers demand pen and paper
i will write, draw, sculpt any and everything i adore about you
the imperfections, the insecurities
i never understood why you so hated your voice, i still dont understand why you hide your smile when you laugh
for why must you conceal your beauty? why must you hide away the parts of you that i want to hear and see more of, that i desire more of?
but it remains endearing to see, when you hide your smile with your hand, when you say you despise the sound of your voice
youre a muse, yes, but you are still human
the imperfections make you seem less heavenly but instead mortal, more within reach. my reach
my inspiration, my muse, im not one to say such words to your face. i would turn tail and run before i speak such things to you
for i would rather show you, show you what you have made me feel and what those emotions created
what you created, just by existing. by being alive
one day when the stars and moon are unaligned, when the sea is harsh and imposing, the earth old and persevering; you will see
you will see the world i created of your humanity
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