Years in fact.
I used to know you well
you were the common thoughts
of my childish mind
I was never perfect with you
but I learned your ways.
With your prose
I found a voice.

Regrettably, we separated
I blame the cruelty of reality,
the brash public eye.
That may just be a cop out
I wasn't strong enough to ignore
any harsh words

What once was my joy
became my shame
I hid you away.
Eventually in your dark corner
you retreated to die
and I only noticed
after the dust had settled in your place.

Now you reawaken,
whether by luck
or by circumstance
How do you know I wouldn't cast you off again,
or rather, reject that part of myself?
Have I finally found a home
where I listen to my own voice again
and not the whispers of others?

I write for you, not for them
I write to feel again
for the fleeting chance
you will return the joy I once attained.
I write out of happiness