Spilled Ink

Your Poem

You are but a lonely poet,

struggling to breathe life to these words

my world has secretly kept.

I am but an array of verses,

waiting to be penned from your heart,

by that same quill dipped in your soul.

You are but a lonely poet,

and I am but an array of verses

that yearn to be your poem.

Seek me by the sigh of your lips;

tuck me safely in the pages of your book.

Ink me to life; ink me into your life.

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