"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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