Incongruity

In Regards to My Muse

To the one who personifies my inspiration.

Tell me dear lover, from whom are you blessed?

Whose name should I invoke before starting this test?

Surely you entered my life as blessing from one of the nine

Or perhaps Apollo is the patron divine?

You exist in every realm of my inspiration, I feel as if it's hard to breathe without honoring you through my creations.

I am blessed.

And scared.

And in awe of you.

I am unprepared, yet never more ready to make love to you.

To see with you. To breathe with you. To release with you.

To be with you.

Honor be to Calliope, the muse of eloquence and epic poetry, for your tongue is certainly eloquent. Persuasive, invasive, benevolent. easily reworking thoughts that were previously prevalent, I'm almost scared of it. You speak and my heart relishes.

Should I sing praise to Clio, muse of history and time? You influence more than just my rhythm, persist in more than simple rhymes. I see your influence lasting for the remainder of this life, ever present, ever mine.

Erato surely deserves depiction, for romance drips from every diction. I place on repeat the things that you say, the feelings that you give me, the emotions that you make me want to portray.

Should I thank Euturpe for her hand in your intellect? Perhaps Thalia for your gift of comedy? Urania for her alignment of the stars? Polyhymnia for the way you make my soul dance, healing my scars,

Your presence invokes Terpsichore, muse of joy and delight. For my heart couldn't help but sing when placed in your hands that night.

Each of the muses reside in you. They're every bit a piece of who you are, and that dear love is frightening and hard.

Because I sense the lessons of Melpomene, the one who teaches through sorrow. You are destined to be the one my heart reaches for, wanting a love that never extends past tomorow. And I will struggle, and writhe, in agony and pain. You will leave, and yet I will still remain. You set a standard for the love that a man can give, I understand that tragedy is how this ends, and still I praise the goddess who brings the pain, for the journey is filled with lessons and love that will never quite fade.

Knowing all of this, recognizing this flame, I choose to exist in the heat that arises as I moan your name.

And so I will write my poetry, using you as my muse, honoring your contributions in the words that I choose.

You request to worship me, so make me your goddess. Shape my body into a temple, plant your seeds in my garden. Sing my name in whispers as you catch your breath, write your religion with your fingers on my chest.

Establish a fire that eternally smolders as I dig my fingers deeper into your shoulders.

Share my breath as our lips reunite, direct my pleasure throughout the night, I want more excuses for me to write.

Inspire me again and again. Intoxicate me as I breathe you in. Visit my dreams as I slumber alone
Take my beaten heart and give it a home.
Remain my muse far after you're gone.

For I will remember you, all of you, and what you have done.

Build us a legacy worthy of songs.

And I will engrave our story here in my poems.