What – another bloody Muse poem?


My heart broke on her firm resolve. That’s fair.
I had mistaken friendship for desire
In both of us. She sniffs, senses the fire
the smouldering that was not ever there

in all the hours we talked. Her eyebrow’s curve
A perfect question. Smiles. I look away
gaze at the one with whom I’ve spent all day
just chatting. There’s bliss I do not deserve

both in the hint of pique and in her smile
accepting I moved on. Intelligence
means that all three can act with elegance
pass off a moment. It is not a trial

but here Muse stands, notices the pause
stretches a little, knows she needs no claws.


About rozkaveney

Middleaged, trans, novelist, poet, activist
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2 Responses to What – another bloody Muse poem?

  1. Claws … nice. (But your Muse sounds scary!)

  2. That’s nicely barbed.

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