The Ocean Sings for the Moon

My Muse

My muse is sharp-eyed and arrogant and heartbreakingly beautiful. I'd love for him to stay with me, a happy memory rather than a wistful one, brightening my days with poetry. His memory inspires me to no end, and that's why I welcome the pain that comes with it sometimes, for it helps bleed out the words straight from my veins, and it's my only solace in the days when loneliness threatens to break my soul in half.