Musings

Standard

(i)

Love has never been my muse
Love has made me
irrational and illogical
ludicrous and atrocious
obsessive and compulsive
Compelling me to be
who I was not
Patient and kind
Soft and sober
Innocent and naïve
to those who
deserved it least

(ii)

Depression has been my muse
My inspiration derived from
sadness and pain
brokenness and numbness
melancholy and despair
Talk to me of
lonely nights or
sighing at the moon on
sleepless nights
I will write you a poem
Or maybe two

Even when I am
happy and glowing
lively and bubbly
joyous and content
I could still write
a poem or two
drenched in darkness
pain and sorrow
For when there was
no one
There was my depression
a blank paper
and my pen

(iii)

Love was never my muse
but his love
Radiating brilliance
Exhuming warmth
His love is
the tune to which
my pen dances
nay, it waltzes
across the page
twirling dandily
in the September rain
His love is
my guiding star
my navigating sky
His love is
my ocean
my anchor
His love is
my inspiration
my liberation

Love was never my muse
But his love is

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