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Rated: E · Poetry · Arts · #1159863
The frustration with an absent/uncooperative muse.
MUSE



I saw my breath
in you this morning
moist smoke
billowing from your lips
luxurious as a warm kiss, yet—

It turned to a rueful fog
crawling along my skin,
choking my thoughts,
until my exhale,
became a stolid winter,
a witless cough.

So too did my pen crack
like frozen perspiration.
Those words
seem desperate now;
scraping thick ice from
the windshield
in a torrential blizzard.

Come back, please.
Melt away this unpleasant
bite, melt away this ragged
edge, melt, melt
like a snowflake
On the scorched desert floor.

Sizzle.
© Copyright 2006 Veronica Knight (lauramcasey at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1159863-Muse