Muse

I wondered if some of your writing was for me for a while, but you’re such a slut I assumed I was just flattering myself. That last poem though. Wow, you had me to a tee … well almost, one line out but other than that, I must admit you got me. 

I liked it. No one has ever examined my shadow and found it beautiful before. Well I have. I love my dark underbelly, just like I am attracted to the murky foibles of all my friends.

Only evil creatures like New Zealand flatworms have light underbellies, never trust someone who doesn’t have that darkness, they’re likely to wrap their slimy bodies around you in a passionate embrace, secrete their poison and dissolve your very organs. 

I cannot thank you. I already played dumb, wilfully misunderstood and you gave the game away by losing your voice for the first time in your life. You’re not quite as clever as you think you are Chad, but you’re adorable. 

We’re the same person. Only difference is, I know you think know me, the naivety is an act, a worm on my hook you know. But now we’re in a pickle because I’ve caught you and I’m bored and want to throw you back, but you just won’t let go will you? You can’t let go, you’re drowning but you want that worm. 

You deserve me. You deserve this beautiful torture and it will give you material, you’ll grow from it. But now, it is time to let go of the hook. Go find another little worm to play with. This one gave you face for a reason and it wasn’t to lure. 

A face kills mystery, intrigue, anonymity. It’s no longer fun. Time to let go or we will both drown. 

But thank you for the poetic musings, they were beautiful and will be remembered when the shadow threatens to overwhelm. 

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