I used to keep a diary but I fell off long ago.
I used to write poetry, but my inspiration was sapped from me.
I used to have a vivid imagination for stories, though the mood had not struck me in long whiles.
Through his eyes, in his face, in my life, I've found the space to write again.
Again, I look within them, him, her, me, watching, interpreting, balancing out thoughts, wishing for in silence.
oooooooh, I'm going like it here.
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