Lilysarte

Muse feels like moonlight in your dreams—
Blurry yet bright, like sunrise Eskimo kisses on a dusky spring afternoon. I just wanted to be held, only letting go to switch hands, to avoid numbed arms.

She sees the magic between the trees,
the birds chirping or taking silent flight from power lines. By the time a hummingbird came and said hello, it was too late for you to turn around. But you caught the glitter in her eyes,
as well as the hard tug at your arm.

I celebrate death, knowing deep down—
at red lights or in late nights—
I gasp for air, thinking of the day I will no longer be in this body or around those I love.
Just somewhere, in a perpetual life.

Sometimes, she wishes for longer days—
more time to rise, to take over the world with all the ideas that swim through her soul,
waiting to be fished out and served to the world.