my muse disappeared on new year’s eve,
packed its suitcase with a decade’s worth of stories
and told me that it was time to go.
i clutched at its worn coattails and pleaded for it to stay,
but my muse shook its head just once and vanished,
dissipating into the smoke of the blossoming fireworks
like Houdini with a death wish.
misery clouded my mind in the ensuing months
and i waded through those eternal somedays
scared to even touch the thin white sheets
that laced my desk like the veils of corpses.
i still remember the glorious days
when the rain storms would cease
and my muse would step lightly into the sun,
leading me with a hand as smooth as its voice.
to this day, i still don’t understand how
my head can be filled with empty thoughts,
nostalgic for memories that never lived
and mourning the loss of someone who was never here.