Loving A Writer.

Bright and early,
She laughs, she talks.
I pour out words into a page.
This is all I know to do.

Later that night,
She yelled, she cried.
I saw patterns not yet drawn, 
beautiful words still unborn.
She felt my absence as I sat right there.

When the words call, it leaves no voicemail,
it knows no reject buttons,
it’d drive me mad, 
‘til I answer.
I can’t time my inspiration.
You want my whole attention.

My feelings are unchanged towards you
I very much value how you feel too
Listening to you 
and making you smile is all I want to do

I can’t control my inspiration
Sometimes it don’t come at all
Sometimes it comes knocking
In the middle of our conversation

It leaves no voicemail,
It’d drive me mad, ’til I answer.
Opening my mind 
to be overtaken by unorganized words.

Love Me Anyways.