I never used to feel haunted.
Until I lost what made me whole.
On my arm, she I flaunted.
Now she's gone, where is my soul?
Where is it? Where is the music?
My foot lies flat, no way to use it.
Now she haunts me day and night,
in the hollow where I hear the blues.
There's no music, like a funeral,
still, she plays the blues.
I'd held out hope still knowing all,
until I heard the news.
She's dead, not the way I am inside,
because I can still kick buckets
and there are no more dreams for her.
It makes the haunting deadly
what if we were wed? hic!
why aren't I dead, too? hic!
We'll never be together now...
Who is she, you ask?
She's my muse, who sang the blues.
She kept my feet and hands in tune.
My muse knew of all the birds in June,
their calls cataloged in stacks like dunes.
I don't know where she went,
but the haunting is severe.
She speaks in the hollow of my soul,
but, if I'm alive, why can't I hear?
Aug 4, 2016
Aug 4, 2016 at 7:16 PM UTC
I never used to feel haunted.
Until I lost what made me whole.
On my arm, she I flaunted.
Now she's gone, where is my soul?
Where is it? Where is the music?
My foot lies flat, no way to use it.
Now she haunts me day and night,
in the hollow where I hear the blues.
There's no music, like a funeral,
still, she plays the blues.
I'd held out hope still knowing all,
until I heard the news.
She's dead, not the way I am inside,
because I can still kick buckets
and there are no more dreams for her.
It makes the haunting deadly
what if we were wed? hic!
why aren't I dead, too? hic!
We'll never be together now...
Who is she, you ask?
She's my muse, who sang the blues.
She kept my feet and hands in tune.
My muse knew of all the birds in June,
their calls cataloged in stacks like dunes.
I don't know where she went,
but the haunting is severe.
She speaks in the hollow of my soul,
but, if I'm alive, why can't I hear?
This happened to me back in 2013.
I spent a month or more completely empty of inspiration.
I couldn't write stories, I couldn't write poetry (that was typical at that time anyway) I could barely write anything for class or read what I was meant to or wanted to.
It was an abysmal time during which I watched a lot of anime and tried to avoid anything fun.
I don't think this time is anywhere near as bad as three years ago, but I do feel very weird. I hope I come out of this as a better writer than before...
... come back, muse! tear
