The Voice Of A Muse

I’ve been run over by stress and a slave to the daily grind
my displeasure at human cruelty frozen  
a temporary indifference  
my mind searches for safe harbor  
so baby I say  
come talk me  
 
The paralysis of analysis reduces my steps to a crawl  
a battle has been waged with illogic the victor  
the only response that is constant  
is the call to mate  
so lady I say
come talk me  
 
I hear your voice giving like to the pen
emanating from the thoughts of others and your head  
I caress your voice as if I was your lover
who has been denied but fervently seeks the rapture
the warmth of the dulcet tones matched by womanly curves  
can be fictitious, wanting it to be fact  
so sweetie I say  
come talk me  
 
The nurture is what tenderizes lustful subtleties  
beauty of language elevates sounded words to an art  
expressions of a connection beyond writers  
but draws out the best and worst in me  
 
And yet with both a lovely flower grows  
with my mind assuaged  
so lover I say  
come talk me