Muse

Now that I’ve found you dear
I don’t know what rest means
as longing has grip my moments
with short curls, and tender kisses
like a thief, stealing my soul away
I want to show you where my many colors begin
when each space has a ripple as riotous as a tending moment
leviatating slowly in the contours of your ebbing embrace
an effusion where I beg for your name.

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