I used to fall in love.
I'd feel every fibre of my being ignited,
Every atom in my body excited,
And in the majesty of happiness I felt purpose.

When I would write,
I wrote.
I felt the words fountain from the tip of my pen,
Like each piece knew what it was meant to be.

Everything made sense on a page.
And I always smiled,
Proud of what I displayed.

I wish I could write on that passion once more...