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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/1788603
Rated: 13+ · Poetry · Emotional · #1788603
A woman is haunted by the ghost of a past love.
My Muse

I see you in my dreams,
As I sleep at night—the muse who haunts my mind,
my heart.
I toss and turn, white sheets billow,
Are you here, were you ever here?
But as I turn I smell you on the pillow next to mine,
and I can hear your voice whispering softly to me.
I open my eyes and search desperately for your face,
my hands seek out your body,
but you are just a muse, a ghost created by my mind
to bring you here to me.
Awakening from this beautiful dream, tears spill from my eyes,
because I long for you—you in the flesh,
blood running through your veins,
your heart pumping strong and alive.
To feel your heart beat next to mine, to feel the warmth of your skin
and the taste of your lips,
to sense all of the ways I can feel your beautiful, perfect love—
these are the things I desire, and the ways in which my muse betrays me
with these moments of sweet fantasy.


© Copyright 2011 Lindsey (ld1214 at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/1788603