Lately

I think my muse

Is amused by me

I’m confused

Is she tired of being

Misused by me?



Writing only what glorifies my skill

Skipping the substance

And removing what’s real



She whispers

“Write something

So someone can be healed”

But instead I pander

With topics that have

A popular appeal



Sick of the fake

She escapes

Without notice

Just slipping away

Without a trace



Ignoring my invitation

To meet in my imagination

So I may sneak a kiss

Of her sweet inspiration



I know that

She won’t forever say no

Eventually she will come back

And the creativity will again flow

So

That’s why I’ve opened up

Every window

To my soul



I’ve opened the door

To my mind

Hoping that she knocks

But guess who is standing there

…I’m not shocked…

It’s my old familiar foe

Writer’s Block