Every poet needs a muse.

I have never forgotten.
Have you? Even once?

As I let you slip through the cracks? I wouldn't blame you if you did.
But I know that you haven't.

It's funny. Talking about distance.
because in spite of it all,
nobody has touched me like you.

Do you still feel it sometimes? Do you still feel like visiting me in my dreams? Or when I'm on top of the mountains, sipping in the beauty of the world? The need to inspire? Inspiration itself.

I do. Constantly.
It's everything I've ever wanted. The loveliest thing I've ever known.

The way you manage to make words come alive. Like air. The way you could make them dance into my lungs and rush into my bloodstream
always leaves me craving more. Addicted.

I'm at the mercy of your language.
Your fingers.
Your smile.

Your words are eternal. Taken as scripture. I bow to them every day. Praise them. Share them. Let them complete me. Give me purpose.
Reflected in pale moonlight and written in the stars.

As I look up, into the infinity of darkness,
and see the words you left there,
I am left speechless.

I mean it too. That I fell. Hard. Impossibly.

We ended quickly. Abruptly. A car accident. An exchange of information. Words hurt, but wounds heal.

I know you've continued on. Effortlessly. Gracefully as you do.
But every single night, I still go to bed, with the desire of making love with our words. Tasting your syllables. Drinking them in. I long for a touch I haven't felt since you. In every conceivable way.

I shouldn't have left. I should have begged you to stay. I would have loved a little more time with you.

I'd wait forever for it.

Maybe you shouldn't, but muses don't work that way.
There's nothing more heartbreaking than a poet without a muse.
A sky without stars.
A page without words.

I'm selfish in wanting your presence.
Your poetry.
It's cruel of me to desire something so deeply.

But nothing could be better
than knowing that
there was a little infinity
where I captured your heart
felt your soul
connected with you
and became a muse
myself.

A dream come true.
We could have blossomed into something breathtaking.

Would it be terrible if I said I think of you always?

I lie awake in bed for hours
Tossing and turning
Trying to find comfort
While dreading being alone.
Stuck between my deviations
As I crave and hunger for your touch.
Starving for your attention
Your estimable smile
      your laugh
The things which I despised are now
All that I adore and I've accustomed to
But I mustn't reveal
I must simply accept
As we fight to move on
For this after all is my decision
Left only to allow time to heal us apart
As I play along with this game of solitude
Granting the fractures as our hearts dismantle and break apart.

© Jenn Linh

Beauty
Belongs to its beholder.

If only we are to recognize.
As we let ourselves and everything surrounding us just go.. like the breeze on a windy day as it flows without order or rhythm blowing the leaves through the trees.
Illustrations begin to unfold
from illusions or that from random dreams vaguely remembered.
Casted by dawn, down far beneath the astronomical sky.
Like the differences in characteristics set in personality's from zodiac signs
All unique in each way and
To each has their own fantasy or fate.

© Jenn Linh

What if I was to say
I'm not who you perceive me to be

What if I was to say
The girl you talk so highly of
Talks nothing of your existence

This girl you think you know
Goes day to day living between two worlds.

One your lover
         Your friend

The other a mere acquaintance

Both worlds feeling lost
Both worlds being alone
Both worlds wishing for a rescue

Stuck living in a lie

For either world is tough to go through
and the world that's without you is  forsaken

Yet this girl that's unknown from either world

Continues as if there's no such thing as sincerity

© Jenn Linh

People may be replaceable
But the warmth that's felt from a connection from ones soul is rare and indefinitely irreplaceable

© Jenn Linh

“I miss you”* is an understatement
Because when I say “I miss you” what I’m really saying is that
Every day I go without your laughter
Without your smile
Without your voice
Without your intoxicating presence
Is a day wasted
It’s a day the sun is a bit duller
Food a bit blander
And oxygen less satisfying
Suffice it to say
“I miss you” is an understatement