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I lost my muse. I think I lost her somewhere between here and there. Wherever here and there is? I made the choice to lose her, which wasn’t extremely fair. I needed to break away, to set her free, to live in others company. I know she’s still out there and I know she’ll be someone else’s muse someday soon.
If you run across her, tell her I said hi. Tell her that my paint has been dried. Tell her that my eyes haven’t cried for her in days. Tell her that my hands miss her controlling ways.
If my muse showed up again today, I would paint her picture, I would write her verse. I would drop to my knees and thank her first. Thank you for what you inspire. Thank you for giving me that desire. Thank you for coming back and lighting that fire.
I lost my muse. She just wasn’t there one day. She got up and stepped away. She left my hands limp. She turned my soul cold. My pages are blank and my thoughts have grown old.
I lost my muse.
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My muse took a vacation so I went to google and came across this quote from guess who, Amy Tan, “Who knows where inspiration comes from. Perhaps it arises from desperation. Perhaps it comes from the flukes of the universe, the kindness of the muses. ” So as my muse lays upon some beach wearing coco butter and tanning, I’ll throw another log on the fire, drink a bourbon, let my creative juices rest, it is only a vacation.