I’ll be a goddamn muse
blood pounding
in your fingertips
electric hum in your chest
tension on your tongue
pouring words from you
at 4am in shaking ink
like measured sips from
warm
red
wine
building a hunger
you don’t recognize
feelings deep
in the soft spots
of your bones
you can’t escape
I’ll pull your eyes from the road
your hair in my fingers
sparking heat all over
every inch
of your pulsing body
you’ll taste more than
nostalgia
on my lips
warm sunlight and
whispered nights
smelling a certain cinnamon
that never seems out of season
you’ll trace me in words
on your pages
in the absent back of your mind
you’ll crave
and ache
and reach
and finally understand
what it means
to behold
