“She needs someone to inspire her.”
I had a Muse but he faded from me
how ghosts or lovers often do.
Patronage acquires autonomy and ingenuity, and I despair
the loss of works that loyalty will purchase.
Prosaic and dull.
“She needs someone to desire her.”
Our hands entwined as we walk, your ramblings
disengage me. I drift in the breeze.
I wonder at the mechanics of your lips, the mechanics of your speech –
How each kiss and each sentence are identical to the ones before.
Rote, rote, rot.