Infatuation for Poets

Wanting a poet to write something about you is equivalent to desperately seeking a photographer to capture "the real you." To see you as something elusive and worth capturing. It's easy to follow someone about who has the right amount of artistic temperament to attract you, but enough of the here and now to realize they're being saught. It's a dangerous game.
Always in pursuit of the artist, or the muse.
It's easy to love the way a poet sees the world. I love several of them. You become addicted to their words.
It lifts you up, takes you away, you see the ordinary in a hyper-focused, soft-lens. None of it's real.
I haven't written poetry for months. I think I've become a part of the terrible *cliche* of only writing when I'm depressed. Or maybe I become depressed when I stop writing. Chicken, egg, brain chemicals. I write when there is a need. Unfortunately, as much as my professors in Wales tried to beat it out of me (bless you Stevie!), I cannot write unless I feel moved.
So, writing has been a bit sporadic for me as of late. Although I am starting to become inspired again.
Thinking back, the reason I began to write poetry in the first place is because *enter the other cliche* I could not communicate as a child and teenager. Poetry became my way of "talking" to the world. It becomes a problem though, when you only communicate through poetry... and then you stop communicating all together because you aren't writing anything at all.
The last few days I have been reacquainting myself with the poetry and fiction of my classmates from Swansea.
Man, they're good. Maybe it isn't such a bad thing to be lifted up and away occaisionally. Or to have a dynamite photo to be taken of you. As long as it doesn't become the sole reason for your existence. Maybe just a reminder of a good moment.
Swansea feels so long ago.
I miss that feeling of being on a train, notebook in hand, a friend or two in the seat across from you, and getting that rush of vocabulary to the page. But hey, if you can't write poetry in Wales, you can't write it anywhere.
I haven't found my words here yet, but they seem to be coming back. For whatever reason.