Muse. A poem.

Fingers dance
Rhythm and rhyme
Enticed from wood
And strings of steel
Peerless sensuality
Entranced, sublime
The muse alive in me



Music is my true love. And it loves me back, assuredly.

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One Day. A poem.

When I’m here
Alone (as always)

Projecting random thoughts
Internalising fears
Rejecting self

I think of you
Though you know me
Not at all

I live in hope
That one day
You will



Unrequited love. It lives on in our hearts and minds, the very minds that hold us back from expressing that love. And so we carry it inside, hiding it away, dreaming of the day we might set it free.

I write a lot of poems about it. Someday my torch will burn for all to see. Until then, I will continue to smoulder and write and dream.

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