The Poet Who Killed His Muse
Let me tell you a story of how my first love came to be…
I remember like it was yesterday of how it all began.
It was on the warmest of long summer days,
When the temperature outside was just right,
And the towns people ventured outside of their homes,
Headed towards the local park for a fine family picnic.
Of course, I had had no intentions of leaving my home
But it was so nice outside, and how could I refuse,
Not to take in the warm sunshine that was today?
So, I journey to the park – alone – with a book in my arms.
I kept my eyes locked on the graveled path,
- Avoiding awkward stares and mischievous smiles –
With each memorized step I took, I was getting closer and closer,
To the same bench I normally sat at every day,
Reading (escaping) and observing the sunset from the canyons.
When I lifted my head from the ground to the bench, my heart stop.
You sat there calm and collected, eyes focused and pen in hand,
Contemplating what you should write next – of course to this,
You took no notice of my presence when I sat down next to you.
I opened my book, to where I last left off, and began to read;
It was a challenge to focus on the words and not on you,
With all my strength, I tried to calm my racing heart with another thought,
Possibly reviewing the story, I had just read, instead I stared at the pages blankly.
It took you long enough to realize that you were not alone here anymore,
You looked at me with those sky-blue eyes and gave me a Hollywood smile,
“Hello there, I didn’t see you there.” You gave me a small chuckle.
Even in the cooling shade, nature was kind to your complexion,
You were waiting for me to speak but I had no words for such a God like you.
I returned my eyes back to my book (how I was acting like a child) but
For some odd reason you didn’t seem to mind my embarrassment,
Instead you returned to writing in your journal.
Only this time was different, you were smiling at each word you wrote,
Each swift and subtle movement your pen made to form the words
To a poem I was oblivious of – had you been writing about me that day?
Love comes forth between good and evil but who is to say what love truly is?
You and I had kindled our love over a blossoming rose in the early Spring,
Together we spent walking in the parks hand in hand with you carrying our books,
We ate peaches, mangos, cheese, red meat, and bread on the edge of the canyons,
Laughed at and talked about how silly Fate could be; always warning each other
Of how easily the three Fates could change their mind in an instant
- I wished there was sign to warn me about you (or maybe it was there and
- I had been too blinded by Apollo’s eyes to truly see - the monster you played to be).
Overtime, I became your poetic muse, someone you thought you sway with
Your poetic words of passion and lust, every time you have dared to hit me over
The smallest of tiniest things – from the ink being spilt to slipping on the floor,
I was in danger and nowhere to go to for help because who would listen to a wild girl like me?
I remember the first time you had hit me with your blistering fist and your mad eyes,
You returned home late at night, smelling of whisky and smoke, and expensive perfume.
You confessed to me, “I would never cheat on my beautiful muse…” Your words were slurred,
Meaningless and untrue, but I took step back away from you (my gravest mistake).
It all happened in an instant, the loud sound of shattering glass, my body shot with firing pain,
And your screams as you pinned me down, punching me until I begged for mercy.
Somehow, a small humane part of you knew, if you continued
There would have been blood stained on those once-beautiful hands of yours.
After that day, the brief love we had once shared had vanished,
You gave me false me promises that we knew you couldn’t keep,
But we went about showing the town we were a perfect couple.
It was a foolish act to play (I, your slave, and you, my master),
A sick joke to fool the eyes of a town that never cared for me.
One night, when I had had enough of all this pain and misery,
I packed my bags, with what little of what I used to own, purchased a bus ticket
Away from this hells canyon – away towards a better paradise than just this.
I felt a fear kicking in me, when I knew you had awoken from your sleep,
You stood in the doorway of our bedroom, blood-shot eyes and still in your dirty clothes.
“Muse, where do you think you’re going?” You asked, forcing me to stare into your eyes.
I gulped the lump in my through and shook, “To a friend’s house.” My voice weak and scared.
You let out a roar of laughter, “Friends? You are an outcast! A nobody!” You laugh.
I grip my fist and shove him away from me, flipping him off, but before I reach the front door,
I am stopped by his gripping hand, pulling me away, with a gun aiming at me.
“You aren’t going anywhere. You are going to stay here – with me.”
Your words full of power and fear; your eyes filled with fear and loss,
As the gun was still aimed towards me. I needed to find a way to distract him but what?
I looked towards the whisky bottle and grab it. “Come let us have a drink together.”
I say trying to keep my voice as calm as possible, because one small move it’s over.
You had no clue, I was hiding a secret from you, for there was a child growing in my womb.
I go over to the old worn couch and sit down, patting the seat next to me, “Sit.”
You walk over, tucking the gun in your belt, as you sat next to me, taking a long swig.
I waited for you to speak but instead, you rested your head against my shoulder,
A small hope that you had fallen asleep, but I was quick to escape without looking back,
I crept silently to the front door and my hand inches away from the doorknob…
When I felt it… the sharp and burning pain spreading throughout my body,
Like the sun taking revenge on me for betraying his words and wishes,
I looked back into my lover’s mad eyes and fell to the ground. He had shot me in the back.
Our child dead and soon, I shall be dead. While, he tries to escape through the back window.
How I loved in the summer and thought to be wed in the Fall.
If only, my lover had not gone mad with the sins of man,
That he and my child and I would still alive today.
But oh, how things have ended so cruelly by the hands of a mad man.
If only I could have escape this toxic chaos sooner;
If it had not been by my troubled heart and fearful mind's action...
Written by IcarusVStheSun
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