To fair Muse

To whom it is owed,
I owe it all to you. Inspiration and motivation have never had such a fair complexion, neither have the Muses, robed, armed with harps, pushed a man to such dire circumstance.
I stare into the pool which I write by, its azure blue logo, scratched into the depths, brilliant like sunken treasure, it still holds no comparison to your eyes. This logo, majestic and false, like a golden tooth, is embedded all over this mansion; its flowery face bears false, decaying roots.
I remember our first night together. Stars held no glamour to the hotel. Do you recall? The grand chandelier, heavy like the sun, seemed to shine with crystal embedded in its golden frame. The grand piano, black as ebony, with keys that unlocked such magical sound, as if the whole instrument was a safe in secrecy. That's where I saw you, standing tall, beautiful, as if standing in a frame.
As sweet as that music was, it was not enough for the scene. That chandelier could have done better. You deserved more.
“Who are you?” Those were your first words to me, proud like a lioness. “That tux isn't new.” Those were your second. It was there I knew the value of silk clothes, and the worth of identity. You would have none of me unless I had some of that. I made it my mission then and there, to win you over through matching your weight in gold.
Such lengths you pushed me to, without you knowing. Those midnight meetings, starting small, cliché as the movies, turning to massive imports, as if I was a legitimate business man. Lies and, bribery , truth turned to ash as I felt my pockets swell with paper. Judges came under my payroll, and my influence seeped like a poison to even the highest of government.
I became powerful, for you.
Our second meeting, at the same hotel. The chandelier had evolved by my will, the piano traded for an orchestra. Thrones of chairs, silk tablecloths, cuisine fit for Olympus, and a king’s entrance would be a beggar’s strut to my entrance. Announced, I strolled in, wearing a burgundy waistcoat of premium silk, a suit worth more than the chandelier, and I sought you out. Sitting next to you, I changed the scene. In a flurry, the tables were removed, and a new scene unfolded. A grand ball, all dedicated to you. I took your hand and we danced in the centre of the room. You couldn't remember me, why would you? Now I was something.
You asked me how I did it, I replied it was simple, I had bought the hotel. Within a year married, Joy is to shallow a word. Within three years, you had contacted the divorce lawyers. I can’t blame you. To be enraged at you is to hold a blade to a goddess’s throat. You are goddess, muse and creator to me. I achieved for you and I will continue to do so. You pushed me with a look, you moved me with a word, and you made me what I am.
To you, it is owed,
For you, I will achieve,
Your Creation.