Your muses are yours.
I imagine them,
Various forms of perfect Greek goddess,
Carved in the purest alabaster,
Staged in nature,
Communicating in thought
Knowing your inner desires
The epitome of virginal.
She doesn't compare to mine.
My muse is of the earth,
Offering temptation on one hand,
And comfort on the other.
And when he visits,
I run and run,
Sucking in adventure,
Swimming in his dark rivers and musky forests,
Recalling on the train delicious memories of last night
Tasting his soft kiss on my lips in work
Smiling secretly, into my stomach.
Until he leaves.
Which he does.
I am bereft, again.
Longing begins, his kiss cold,
And words spill out, waiting for his knock at the door.
Poetry by 1LFD
Read 51 times
Written on 2022-07-24 at 20:45
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