I want to see behind your eyes
And know I still define your vision
And understand the way you think
Yet make unaided compositions.
I want to know you love me still
But yet not yield to your ambition
And comprehend your reservations
Without them forcing my decisions.
I want to write for the sake of writing;
Forget your compliments exist.
My words erratically spewed
Rather than ticked off some checklist.
And if I couldn’t write like that
Then know I’d surely be remiss
To pretend, I still can do
The things you claim you sorely miss.
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