MusesA Poem by hazyA jumble of lovey dovey ideas
I flip through a book of love poems
and wonder why your name is written on every page in ink so bold it bleeds into my skin despite the letters crossing not a single poets’ lips One called his lover his muse as he wrote to her in a pen of rose dusted laughter and a dozen moonlit kisses and I can’t help but see you smothered in the words before you, before us, poetry was too stuffy too long too boring and even now, my words come out thick as chalk streaking against the pages in an endless effort to define you, in a clumsy attempt to dip my pen in fine ink and write you into dainty prose and all that is not even to say that you’re dainty like a fine gold chain or as a stream of glistening ink from a poet’s loving pen rather than dainty like the smallest hint of a smile dusting across dimpled cheeks or the faint brush of your fingers on my skin “I’ve heard this before” is the frustrated mantra I repeat after every finished poem I’ve heard it in the words of every song I come across that echo your name and in the pages of books filled with love poems that scream the insufferable truth that you, darling, are my muse © 2023 hazyReviews
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8 Reviews Added on January 17, 2023 Last Updated on January 17, 2023 AuthorRelated WritingPeople who liked this story also liked..
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