Muse

We paint nudes on our sheets,

And then you play for me.

The arrow from Diana’s sheath

Will be the secret key.

I see the inspiration walk

Between our thirsty lips.

You take my lipstick for a chalk

To draw a rose on my hips.

Naked linen drapes around

Your easel and my neck,

Forms my dreams into a sound,

Regrets – into a wreck.

Take everything I own –

The dark, the light, the voice,

All I’ve ever known,

For your art is my choice.
rose


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