There is a great mystery.
An elephant in the room.
Who is the woman
that visits me where I lay?
The elemental dream being
that softly sways
through my deep
slumbering sleep.
Through lovesick mind,
whilst sheep play.
The one who keeps
everything safe and sound.
When the anti-muse
would make my tears weep.
Her face changes sometimes,
morphing when those
shuttered blinds unfurl
and the world twirls,
but the same soul
sits behind those eyes.
The woman that makes
my dreams swirl.
Not the anti-muse
making skin crawl.
I'm in my element
when I talk
of the predicament.
To name her
would make
them vanish
into flame.
So, I sit with them, pursing
my lips to stop myself
from ever letting
the pulsing words slip.
For if I did, I'd curse myself,
to empty dreams.
Just the anti-muse,
to keep me amused
The elongated
night and I
would sigh in union,
elevating
the orchestrations.
Eliminating
the empty space
as it fills with the
echoed choruses.
Questioning why.
So, I sit, name tightly
held within locked bolted lips.
Unrequited,
is a requirement.
It's the only way
to keep her sane,
and an insane night
is one I don't
ever want
to entertain.
Thanks for reading
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