becoming the subject of a muse,
merely an object as the muse.
i see the discomfort that comes from
having your story told for you,
displayed without your consent.

i am the director of my own life.
i wrote you out of my script,
so leave your idealized version of me
out of yours.

the unsettlement i feel
to be spoken of so highly,
with a glaze of gold outlying my skin,
stuck to a pedestal.

i am not your trophy,
i will never be your wife!
your version of me
projected through the eyes of obsession.
infatuation.
did you see me as your possession?

and so here it lies.
here lies the irony of making you a muse,
to preach my uttermost desire
to be shed as yours.

i really loved you
i still do
but i can’t do this anymore:
pretend that i’m fine
when i am not
pretend that i don’t mind
when i do
pretend that i’m happy
when i am sad
i did it for you
so you could be happy
so you wouldn’t end up like me
but look what happened in the end
life took you from me
and i need to let go of you

One great love
Two good memories
Four of five cured pains
Three friends at least
Four unexpected surprises
may tears
and thousands of smiles

i miss you
like i miss the stars
in sky above the mountains
when i wander into the city
these street lights
just don't compare
and i miss you
like i miss the river
gently rushing over skin
this empty shower
just doesn't compare
i miss you
like nature
after deforestation
to our love
it was breathtaking
and it's fall
haunting

s.s

it's been almost three years
some nights i still cry to sleep
the way you hurt me never heals
i feel it surface and weep
my mind is covered
in scabs and scars
tonight i'm bleeding
and seeing stars

s.s

pull you close
grab my waist
rest my hands
on your face
kiss you slow
close embrace
lift me up
wearing lace
hands will drift
press and trace
melting with
the sweet taste
love on lips
time to waste
you and i
in this place

s.s

i touched your soul
and scribbled my name on it
love, you’ll never get lost again