Her angles to the conversation varied
I examined like one would a dream
Awoken and ****** back into reality
Coffee cups on the bedside table filled with tea
She spoke with an air of authority
Quick fast with flashes of a little girl
The twirl of her tongue within her mouth
A touching face that left my heart with doubt
She smelled like the dew after first rain
The work has most definitely changed
She - crossing through galaxies - praised me
But there was nothing truthful I could say
She was the reason why I would write
Call Her a muse if you will
But my hand when she is gone is still
There is still so much of the well to fill
She makes me a dependent child
Crying in my sleep at night
And in my terror and fright
I try to call out, but my throat is too tight
She makes her way around the borders of dream
She tip-toes around my once vigilant masculinity
The willpower I possessed is still there
But the resting best of myself is skinned bare
She tells tales that I believed to be true only in love
And I discover then that I am
We ride the frothy waves of the Pacific
All the way to a place quite unspecific
She makes her tea as I make coffee
We find no reason to quarrel about that
And on the dresser our faces smile to guests
We sleep, we die, together in infinite rest
Aug 2, 2012
Aug 2, 2012 at 8:45 AM UTC
Her angles to the conversation varied
I examined like one would a dream
Awoken and ****** back into reality
Coffee cups on the bedside table filled with tea
She spoke with an air of authority
Quick fast with flashes of a little girl
The twirl of her tongue within her mouth
A touching face that left my heart with doubt
She smelled like the dew after first rain
The work has most definitely changed
She - crossing through galaxies - praised me
But there was nothing truthful I could say
She was the reason why I would write
Call Her a muse if you will
But my hand when she is gone is still
There is still so much of the well to fill
She makes me a dependent child
Crying in my sleep at night
And in my terror and fright
I try to call out, but my throat is too tight
She makes her way around the borders of dream
She tip-toes around my once vigilant masculinity
The willpower I possessed is still there
But the resting best of myself is skinned bare
She tells tales that I believed to be true only in love
And I discover then that I am
We ride the frothy waves of the Pacific
All the way to a place quite unspecific
She makes her tea as I make coffee
We find no reason to quarrel about that
And on the dresser our faces smile to guests
We sleep, we die, together in infinite rest