I plan to lament, to pity-party, to languish-unapologetic-like, the daylong, in regret and angst.
When dawn of some new era calls, I’ll hear it’s hearken, I’ll know it’s finally time I arise from the rain and fog.
‘Til that day, you’re cursed, Mountain, you’re soul-sold, Hollow, you’re a kind woman’s Relic and Shame.
What might we share?
Except for some source of light
And the cello muse
I won’t pretend to know
Though
I like soft things
You like the edge
I’m drawn to abbeys
You’re from the deep
I flirt with irreverence
You respect me
So maybe we could stand
A day or year
A treaty, here
Find peace
Decide
Praise The Rock from which The Water flows
Not far from Jordan
These why-natured questions no human has answered
Nor monsters willing, either
Invade my slumber
Nightmares, demanding I wash the dishes
Become thinner and wear clothes that aren’t mis-matched
Occupy mistress status
Keep me searching
Leaving me susceptible to sages insisting
A renaissance woman now, I ought dress for my inner warrior
The muse who I let be stolen
At 3am I harken her
A ghost now, still grieving for answers from man-shaped monsters — those captains who’ve abandoned the ship
She cannot answer back
Bled out, I still live
And see you direct the dark
And orchestrate sin
Count yourself among the many
Who do not care to consider my midnight musings of any value
To know my heart-wrenching pleas for your return
Sent unrequited out
But what you need know
My last diary entry was a mid-summer date
Immediately before the fireworks, but after my hope expired
Your birthday, baby
Such is pretending
You sing to me in secret
How you want my hand
Calling all muses
Know that Wicked Wit’s amused
You are being used
Don’t think there’s not anything left
I touch you now and still
There is
For I hear weekend giggles
I see the toys of us
I taste pink bubblegum ice cream
I smell farm and city musings
I intuit us
A god of sorts, and my muse, how you made me
Created me and made me reach
Let me cry, watched me love
Let me down, helped me up
Some universe, somewhere is missing what dust
Write, pray, be…out loud
Everything’s such a poem
Here on Planet Muse