A Muse

Now your back is to me
& you’re snoring
Fluttering away in a dream

I cannot help that I cannot forget
the past

I think of brushing two fingertips

I keep having bad dreams
& I wake & they dissolve

Everything I write is crowded
Awful, loud, diseased

So much you don’t even read
What I write anymore

I break off a nail
I’ve peeled the burn from my finger
& it’s a scar now

I am covered in scars
Some you cannot see
Some I will make goddamn sure you do
Especially if I have the slightest sense
Are not telling the truth

I don’t hate you
I don’t hate you


9 thoughts on “A Muse

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