Dearest Muse, my Inspiration,
Gone, are you, from my imagination.
Fled my arm’s open embrace
spit your venom upon my face
left in a frothy wake
of Fury and Grace

I, the Abandoned
the Assaulted, the crazed
cry out for your return
immediately, undelayed
But your Spirit heeds no warning
ignores my every plea, I live
in the Agony of your Scorning

Can we not reconcile?
Undefined by our differences
(You’re ethereal presence,
my mundane existence)
Yet, the same are we in Joy
created by the Pen
the Paper, and the worlds we write in
Alas, I have run out of your Elixir..
Dearest Muse..
Until we meet again,

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