"A Muse!"

I was his Muse,

his scarlet girl

all dressed in

fine clothes and

pearls.

He was a man

who asked for

a Muse; “A Muse!

A Muse!”

He called.

And I mistook

that as a call

for me, when all

he needed was

a girl

who was willing to

be his Muse and

that was me;

a girl who

could play

a good Muse,

beauty in the

lime light,

drawn into your

best work

by some vague

belief in you.

I don’t believe

in you

anymore.

But now your

imagined

majesty is in

all my

Poetry.

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