To My Muse…


I can’t write, at least not right now. My mind is so full, that’s it’s jumbled somehow. What are the words, where’s the keen turn of phrase, why do my eyes not focus and instead start to glaze, there’s only white on the page. 

What’s the message that I’m trying to convey? How long does this last, hopefully not more than a few days. Have I lost my beautiful muse? Has she gone undercover, where is she hiding, the one who makes my heart flutter. 

Did it break her in two? To see a metamorphosis come true, to think she has lost her high place in my wanton embrace? To believe she was casually tossed to the side, maybe feeling she might carefully hide herself away in false joy and platitudes, secretly wondering did I transfer her on to you? 

When I felt the supple lips of another, did I imagine for a moment, it was the one true desired lover? Tasting her desire, did I wish it was finally you? In my arms? In my bed? And finally not just a figure in my head. 

And when her hands caressed my skin, did I close my eyes and dream…

of that moment when the door was opened wide and I had the chance to honestly be seen, to say the words or take the steps to hold you in that place and never miss the opportunity to see you again, face-to-face. 

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