You are the muse

 
you're many
experiences
in a short
space of
time,

that's why
your fingers  
tremble to
pin them
down.

...

If I were the muse
I'd appear in moments of quiet solitude
whispering words of wonder and possibility.

I'd guide the poet to the edges of dreams.
I'd lead him to hidden groves
where time stands still.
Where the rustling leaves
and murmuring streams compose
a symphony of inspiration.

With a touch as light as moonbeams
I'd paint the skies with hues
of dawn and dusk,
he'd find rhythm in chaos,
harmony in discord.

As his muse, I'd be the discovery
that within the realm of imagination
there are no limits, only endless horizons.

I'd softly whisper in the poet's ear:

"Let your words flow like rivers
of dreams,
for within you lies the magic
to shape worlds.
Embrace the emotions
that stir your soul
and paint them with the colors
of your heart.
Each line you craft is a step
towards eternity,
where your voice will echo forever.
Trust in your gift,
for your rhymes hold the power
to transcend time
and touch the hearts."

he sits by the pool
notebook balanced on his knee
pen in hand and lost in thought
unaware what he is feedin these pages

his nature fills these words
not with madness and genius
but with the quiet moments after his storms
when he's searchin for himself

his fingers find melodies no one else knows
playin what dictates his soul
no sheet music to guide him
just raw feelin translated in song

a look in his eyes like he’s burnin alive
speaks of not belongin to this place
in his alienation
there’s a truth that emerges

darker hours come
when rage erupts without warnin
fists clenched against invisible enemies
voice raised against unheard accusations

the multiple day silences
empty spaces where bottles once stood
bitter words spat in moments of drownin
before collapsin into hollow apologies

his mischievous grin appears less often now
stubborn stance more defensive than strong
but in unguarded moments
he offers a gentler touch

mind spinnin on tangents
disappearin mid conversation
travelin some place internal
before returnin with haunted eyes

he slides thru mistakes
pivotin, turnin. adaptin
as if errors were always the intention
a grace found in those use to failure

sometimes it’s all too much
the weight of expectations pressin down
the silent battles no one witnesses
the 3 year coin tucked daily into his pocket

his soul speaks in language with no translation
never seein himself reflected in these lines
never knowin where he translates to art
servin as unwittin muse

 
Just know that I thrived to make you smile
And that I also I strived to make your laugh
Because I cried too with you in your grief
Even if my tears didn’t bring you any relief
 
But it was my belief that in sharing these emotions
I would kind of move you in some type of way
Even if I was a faceless stranger in the distance
We’d bond like little innocent children at play
 
Perhaps it was the silly rhymes I’d add in lines
To make you awe in wonder, ponder and think
So if you drink the ink to open up your mind’s eye
You would find how closely we were really linked
 
Maybe I wasn’t blessed with swiftness or quickness
But I swear I always felt the urge to slay in wordplay
Giving you the courage for you to express yourself
And maybe even help others by paving the way
 
All I wanted to do was add fire to your pen and lighter
With a fuel hotter than any ire or passion known to man
And the words would burn minds when they read them
Knowing that you heard them and that you understand
 
All I ever wished was to be the drive who stood close by
The muse that lit the fuse and gave you inspiration
So that when you see your creation you’d remember me
And I would happily be your spark…your secret motivation

She told me she loved me by the water fountain.
It's where we met.
Where we dreamt,where our home was.
 
And where we slept.
She told me she loved me more than him.
Her voice sounding sad and grim.
 
It's been a good while since I saw her face.
The way she moves in ellegance and grace.
But she is now with another.
 
That's approved by her father.
It's getting quite late outside.
And he was in a hurry to touch.
 
She says she loves him.
And that he cares much.
Now he's grabbing her hips and pulling her in.
 
Embracing her lips,her waist feeling thin.
I can see the sadness on her face.
As she cries into her pillow at night.
 
When she tells me her fears,I can't help but feel fright.
She couldn't be alone during nighttime.
It made her feel alone.
 
And the comfort of her quiet home.
Alas,she was too young at the time.
It hurt to see her sad,almost like a crime.
 
When she said she loves me,  I felt her shine.
I should have built a home with a fountain for us and make her mine.
Alas,we were too young to understand.
 
Crying at night,near her nightstand.
If she ever comes back,I'll treat her well.
We will be back to when we first met.
 
When I could see the sparkle in her eyes.
Falling into the fountain,her hair wet.
Now I'm grabbing her hips and pulling her in.
 
I'll kiss her like never before.
And I won't leave her alone at night no more.
I should have built a home with a fountain for us.
 
When she said those words so sweet.
I remember the day we first met.
When we were just kids.
 
We were too young to understand.
I'll stand by her side at night.
No longer crying near her nightstand.
 
I'll always remember the fountain we met.
As we watch a falling, colorful sunset.