He whispers in my ear

Consciously I crafted an alter ego because everyone should be his own superhero. 

For a long time my freewill made nickels and dimes. 

Then one day he woke up next to me and stayed in bed writing while I brushed my teeth. By the time I dressed we were both in the same outfit. 

My deliverance arrived with his penmanship. Mysteriously we convert our conversations into literature. 

Understanding of his love affairs, his fears and frustrations is every mans desire and my accomplice accomplishes breathing life into those. 

He bids me to sit and get lost in the craft that crafts letters into poems that magically make me the poet. 

He whispers in my ear; narrated emotions surrender armies and endears lovers. 

And I reply "literature is no substitute for living"...