#started therapy

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A perplexing situation,

A poet avoiding the pen.

As if the illness resides within the ink,

A sickening flourish of temptation.

I've seen the way you watch me laugh,

And the strange light that seems to glow in your gaze.

If only I was only made of that laughter-

If only I didn't bleed that infected ink.

Perhaps then,

I could be your muse.

Rather than a poet,

Terrified of what might spill out

When presented with

Paper and pen.