Oh to write, to create.
An affair to remember.
The passion was not unlike two lovers.
You gave me the power of God,
the ability to create worlds,
and to meet characters
no one else knew.
You gave me the ability to escape.
Escape my misery and sorrow,
run to a place where it didn't matter.
A place that was safe.
A place that kept secrets.
Looking now,
I wonder where the passion went.
What happened to the desire?
Why tire of God like power?
Perhaps no need to escape,
happiness now within,
the passion faded like an ember on the wind.
New passions took root.
The real world even better.
No need to write,
but perhaps we can still sit
and remember our affair.
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