Always the Poet, Never the Poem

What if for once — I was the poem, not the poet?

. . . . . . . .

On a rainy day, as I sit and write, a realization strikes me; I realize that I'm always the one writing poetry, expressing my feelings, but rarely the one being written about. It makes me curious, what does it feel like to be the inspiration behind someone's poem? To be the one they write about with love and admiration?

I've spent a lot of time writing, pouring my emotions onto paper. But hardly have I been the focus of someone else's words. This makes me wonder,

what's it like to be the reason for someone to picks up a pen?

With each poem I write, I find myself yearning to know. It’s not about wanting something in return, but simply wanting to understand. To be the heart of someone else’s creativity, to be the spark that ignites their passion — it’s a thought that intrigues me.

As the rain falls outside, I embrace this curiosity. Maybe the magic of poetry isn't just in writing or being written about, but in the connection between the two. Each word I write tells a story,

but what would it be like to be the story in someone else's tells?

So I keep writing, not sure why, but ready for whatever comes next. With every word I write down, I try to catch the feeling of life and love, believing each poem might touch someone's heart in its own special way..

As the rain still pouring, I’m left with a sense of wonder. What would it feel like to see myself through someone else’s eyes, captured in verse for all to see? Though I may not have the answer — but really..

How does it feel to be a muse in someone else's poetry?