Another poem about someone from long ago.
A quiet fills my soul,
My muse asleep, inspiration void.
Only my memories left to inspire.
Quiet fills the air around me.
Moving as if in a dream.
A soft laugh, a playful squeal,
The sounds carry to me softly.
Life is dull in comparison to before.
No surprises, same old routine.
Day in, Day out.
The eagerness with which the new day was approached Ė
Nothing left to tempt me,
Nothing left to feel.
My inspiration piece broken,
No feelings to share,
Almost numb with emptiness.
New piece in sight,
But the depth of emotion - shallow.
Just something pretty to look at.
No love or lust just curiosity.
The joyous feeling gone,
Just anger and sadness.
The two feelings my joy kept at bay.
A trail beginning to form.
Every inspiration I get meets an ugly end.
My affection seems a curse,
My feelings bringing an end to things.
Finality Ė never to see, hear or speak to my inspiration again.
Unsure if my muse will ever reawaken.
Not knowing if anyone could ever make me pour out my soul that way again.
To put every beat of my heart on paper,
To let the world see and know my inner secrets,
To show things Iíve only dared dream or think.
To make discoveries about myself,
To feel things Iíve never felt before.
Even the pain was worth it.
The one emotion that was always constant.
Only bearable because it was unintentional.
The harsh words said in play.
The jokes that made us laugh.
The times we just stared at each other.
Surrounded in rapt contemplation.
Each thinking thoughts we could never tell the other.
Always second guessing the other.
Knowing and feeling more the either cared to admit.
Keeping things so close, so hidden,
That caused a great opportunity to be missed.
Thinking of things he could have inspired by going beyond what we had.
Daydreaming of what couldíve been.
Noises, sounds and sights stirring memories.
Little pieces of my inspiration.
Sometimes something Iíd never noticed before.
Something as little as a noise or a color.
Feelings sinking but not fading.
Still dreaming but quietly.
Finally able to keep my feelings to myself.
No one around to tell me what Iím feeling.
No one to read me like a book.
Not when Iím not even sure what Iím feeling.
Anger, sadness, disappointment.
Hitting me at once making me numb.
Anger because he left,
Sadness because Iíll never see him again,
Disappointment for the reason why he had to leave,
Knowing that I should have never let him so near.
Knowing my inspiration wasnít worth it.
Knowing that my pain was not known.
A one sided inspiration.
Now Iíll never know the touch,
Never know the feel of the power behind his eyes.
Power and soul pouring like water,
Pouring over me like waves on the beach.
My inspiration for beauty, power, strength,
My thoughts drying up like a drought Ėridden well,
With no rain in sight.
Dust begins to settle around,
Nothing to keep it stirred up.
Nothing on the horizon but darkness.
Traveling faster towards it moment by moment.
Moments away from being engulfed in the black.
Hopes and dreams extinguished faster then they could bloom.
Swimming in the memories my muse left behind to haunt me.
Pictures that float through my mind.
His eyes so deep, his smile, so wide,
His heart, so big, his mind, so sharp.
Distracted thoughts, as my fingers fumble.
Not interested in things around me.
Absorbed in my own little world.
Letting whatís left of my muse inspire me.
Hoping my new inspiration piece wonít tarnish like my last one did.
Hoping that he is as pure of heart and honest as he seems.
The souls of my muses similar.
Strong, vibrant, powerful, and beautiful,
Every piece that I see, everyone that inspires me,
All have souls in close kinship.
Even ones in the past you can compare.
Yet each one different yet again.
A different piece of them calling to me.
Mind, body and soul,
Sometimes one, sometimes all three.
Yet each tear out a place for themselves in my heart.
A place no one else will ever occupy.
No matter how many lovers or the like that I have,
A special place will my muses hold dear,