I tried to catch her
and rip the wings from her back
…she just flew faster
I’ve been trying to trick my muse into thinking I’m someone very nice. Into someone she’d like to hang out with all day, or more specifically from the hours of 8:15-11:15 Monday through Friday. She’s not buying it. She’s glared at me all week, narrowing her gaze and turning her tiny back on me while I beg her to stay. She’s bored. She’s tired. I’ve worked her too hard. I’ve kept her from the forest and from the raucous parties that she used to attend. She tells me I have to stay quiet, to be patient, to wait. She says she’s not one that can be trained like a circus seal. She reminds me that I have rudimentary vocabulary and grammar to work on, and that since I didn’t complete university or take enough composition courses I have no business attempting some of the things I attempt. I mostly believe her. Sometimes I don’t believe her though, and wait patiently with my hands folded in my lap for her return. She knows I’m whipped. She knows I’ll wait.
(“Roll away your stone and I’ll roll away mine…together we can see what we can find.” – Mumford & Sons)