Creative

We didn’t realise

what we were

creating,

I was writing 

meaningless verses 

about love,

we were both

in a rut

of sorts. 

When the idea

hit,

we sat, motionless 

for a second. 

When the idea

hit,

we began to grow

bruises the shape

of large moles,

great black ones. 

When the idea

hit, 

I remained in bed

for days,

we hardly 

spoke of it

again. 

We didn’t realise

what it was

that we were

creating, 

we saw no

hint of gold

within the grey,

and when the idea

hit,

with it,

we did change. 

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