everything starts to make sense now
as fatigue takes its seat next to delusion
if i can't sleep, no one can
these hallways bang on pots and pans

she was the flame that ignited him
from a sapling to a beautiful oak
but when he grows too close to her
he catches the fire she emits
and they both pass impetuously

he knows this is inevitable
so he waits until autumn
and prays his leaves will escape
from her burning passion
and shape the tale taped to their backs

look how their eyes follow your every move
dead, judging eyes telling you you're wrong
their insolence rotting your bones down to the marrow
the lies you told
the things you stole
all reanimated in this
hallway of souls

I have lost my muse
in the hustle and hustle
of my days
I have put her aside
and now she is gone
from me..

and my writers place
is lonely and bereft
of her joy and life
a soulless room
dusty and...
well,  just .... beige and bland.


so if you see her,
my muse....
ink-stained and laden
down with words unwritten
please....let her know
I miss her terribly
and would like her
to come home....

I promise to take
better care of her
this time....I promise.

it feels like we have been
moving away from each other,
there is more space
between the pillows and sheets,
i am forgetting what the tips
of your fingers feel like
(even when they are on me)

slow down with me, grant
i want to breathe with you,
i want to be with you

untuck your shirt,
lay your head down,
stop running to
whatever is next,
the future is not now,
be here again, be
now again, be mine
again