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I can't copy and paste a quote and begin writing.  My heart won't allow my pen to move. My soul says Lou that ain't you. Talk about anything, everything, about scriptures written in red, nothing at all, just let it be you, about you, involve you and her, all the thems you wanted back in the day, but since you were too shy they never gave you the time or a slap in the face. Write about how you've grown as a man, and how they see potential rising in you like soft dough placed in the hottest oven. Mouth watering metaphors as the Corona invites you to lower inhibitions and lay naked on the page. Fearless and unashamed. Dare any woman to close her eyes, ride these words to its final end. Let it sit there in between her something or other. Resting until heartbeats form. Something other than pastry is rising. It's the return of what she's been missing. Someone willing to please her before self acts selfishly. Here, is where I win. Not from parting is such sweet sorrow, but from every time you and I share hello. Every day you and I share some new meaning and uncover a new beginning. Exploring.  Taking a look at the past in order to make sense of now. And here comes the revelation I've been waiting for, I don't write for them or you, it’s for her. Always shall be. I'm lucky enough that my soul has a front row seat to the things she brings out of me. Its ordained one woman shall forever change, be the demise and resurrection of one man. It's something that my soul despises but I'm drawn to her resolve all the same. Thoughts, feelings and flow captured on pages, hopefully one day gracing larger stages than just them, me, her and you. Maybe I'll create something Shakespearean, pen a quote someone else might be inspired to write about. We shall see, for the time being don't say goodbye to me.

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