She was a muse the day I met her. Weeks went by and I just couldn’t get her out of my head. I wrote her first poem, “red and pretty” and from there the words have just kept flowing on… no end in sight. I have to see her soon. I just have to.

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whole again

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So basically nothing I do works. Once when I stopped trying to talk to you for a few weeks you came back. Now? I don't really know if it matters anymore. But I'm still here waiting for you. From The Blog ...

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