But I Know

I have no idea what I am doing
When I am writing.
It had always just been
A way to express myself.
I would write more
The more I was hurting.
I got used to writing
My thoughts,
My emotions,
Things I wanted to share,
Things I couldn’t say to people,
I would write it down.

Then I met a poet.
Or I thought I did
But I know
I learned something.

I started to learn
How to rhyme
About rhythm
About metaphors
I thought more about words
How to use them
The way they sounded
The definitions
Why I used the words I used when I wrote
What I was feeling in each entry.
How emotions selected different types of words.
I thought about how spacing
Could change the feeling
Of a sentence
To mean more than one thing.
I thought about what was necessary
I thought about someone reading.

I learned how to apply those things
To my writing
I learned how to utilize it
To describe what I was feeling.

For the first time I learned what it meant
To have passion
But it was passion
Fueled by love
Is it the same
If it doesn’t spring up
From within me.

I am afraid
That one day I won’t enjoy it
As much anymore.

That happens often.

I hope it doesn’t.


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