Muse

‘My muse,’

he said

stroking my face

his lips turned

upward

to reveal cheeks

plumped

from new joy.

 

The blood rushed

fast

to my own

and

out of habit

I dropped my eyes,

to the hairs

of his beard

as my mouth

wriggled

pursed

pressed

and parted:

a grin

trying

to escape.

 

And so it did. 

 

Un-cuffed

bursting

into the sunlight

of his

face.

 

“My muse.”

 

 

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