Muse

It's not over

It's never over, the words won’t let me dive for cover

I'm now just a tool for her work

like a pen with the chewed cap, thrown in the dirt

used to give voice to the muse in my head

now she speaks in voices that fill me with dread

Yet they can feel strangely soothing as well

she picks me up, spits me out, puts me through hell

but I'd never swap, I need her like she needs me

I'm the paper she's the pen, our words become free

This liquid voice sings lullabies all day

yet at night she wants to scream

dark images that rewrite my dreams into a nightmare screenplay

but I’d never replace

she fits me like a glove, makes the words race

I'd say I'm in love

but a disembodied voice is difficult to face

She is an artist, with her unique view of the world

she asks me to make it flow out in words

like a painter I am just showing the scenes

she inspires the life in-between

the movements, the motion, the noise and commotion

I bring the boat, she makes me cry an ocean

or is she me? am I her? are we one and the same?

is this part of a game

she does live in my head

but then so do all of those that I’ve loved, lost and read

This muse can give me such a hard time

when trying to pick a rhyme

or a metaphor to really portray her lines

but we make a good team, her and me

she brings the life, I bring the story

she is like the director on a play

me an actor trying to find the right words to say

Thanks For Reading

Peace & Love.

Kyle.