When words
slip from my lips like songs
slip from you fingertips
like rain slips from the window ledge
and down onto a beautiful stranger
I will consider myself
moderately talented.
Until then,
my darling,
you are the true talent
my muse
my inspiration for so many of these words.
Keep that music coming,
into my mind,
into my heart,
to become etched into my memory
and my lips.
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