"It may be a type of destiny that the poet

survives as a lamp lit to never be put out,

despite ink spilled from pen,

fueled by the need to write,

tumbling through the gears

and grinds of the chewy chompy

world, only to see, to hold, to savor

to show

the world

what they see.

It may just be

the poet's life

for me."

Loved your piece. 🙏🏻💜

I'd love to write for you.

Tidying this up and ready to submit.

Thanks for the tag.

Loving what you are doing with this pub.

I love to rhyme, often sensually. I have to write, otherwise insanity. I leave my heart on paper. Feel free to feel my feels. I comment lovingly and completely.