" I'm a poet who has lost his words." He looks across the street, but not before I catch the dull glint of shame in his eyes.

"Where did you lose them?" I ask, gentling my tone.

He turns back to me. When he speaks, his voice is so small that I have to lean closer to hear it. "The same place I lost myself. "

― A.J. Compton , This Old Heart of Mine