My Muse:

My Muse:

She never knows how much I care,
And to her I would never dare,
To tell her how I feel,
As my friendship, with her is much too special & real.

She is so perfect words cannot describe,
How she emits this hypnotic vibe,
Unfathomably beautiful and flawless,
With a voice like an angelic chorus,
She is such a great friend,
And backwards she would bend,
To help me out in times of need,
And always giving instead of having greed,

Her body is that of perfection,
To me it is heavens’ reflection,
Her humor and intelligence,
Are only matched by her compliments,
As she is humble and wise,
Yet young and alive,

She seems to have been hurt before,
As she doesn’t demand more,
From the men in her life,
Yet she deserves to be the wife,
Of the perfect man,
Who would do for her,
All that he can,
To make her mortal life, eden
And stand in front of her and be her even.

Her name caresses your lips,
And is so sensual and free,
As it invigorates your tips,
Of your soul and body equally.

The most harrowing part of my muse,
Is that I can never choose to have her,
There is just no use,
As she is an immortal lover.

Her laugh fills valleys,
In the past men would die for her hand,
Nowadays they would merely be pleased,
To just see her, a sight so grand.

She symbolizes all that is woman,
And all that is power,
All I want is one moment,
One hour..

But I have messed up,
I have broken the code,
I have disobeyed the ode,
I have fallen in love with her
My muse,
And I cannot refuse,
The feelings I feel,

She has gone from subject to target in my eyes,
And everything I do is with her in mind,
And I tell her stuff and tell her lies,
But in the end my love is blind.

She sees me as child and a child only,
Little does she know how desperately lonely,
I am, and need her in my life,
As a friend now, but I want her as my wife.

She is far too advanced and experienced for me,
And I tell myself that daily,
Yet I am forced to love her, and try and try as I might,
I cannot stop thinking of her and laying awake at night.


I know she is unobtainable I know I will never have her,
Yet I know I would love to be one of her sexual leftovers.

Here’s to happiness, here’s to love,
Here’s to the creator up above,
Here’s to sadness and sorrow,
And our hearts that we swallow,

And here’s to her, my life my passion,
My muse, my great friend with compassion,
May she keep the man of her dreams,
And may I die before that day,
As much as I lover her, I could never say,

“I’m glad you’re with someone that makes you glad,”
As I would be broken hearted and eternally mad that,
I am so grateful to have her in my life,
but,
When she leaves,
I fear for my life…