Muses in Love

musesbeach 

And as clichéd as these muses in love,

The aching sun sighs and lays down it’s light,

And we feast on the fat and swollen dove,

Until all our hope fades into the night.

Arching chords of a music so long lost,

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Bottled

Red blindfold and green sparks,

Fast jazz and dancing free,

Soft wine and wilted parks,

Yet another draftee.

Capture me, my muses,

Bottle my fates for joy.

In ecstasy and abuses,

Forbidden whipping boy.

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