What it's like to Wander

One more time

The thing about poets is that
They will find another muse.
They will find their creativity
And their motivation
With or without you.

My muse, my lover,
The way your fingers caress my cheek
Reminds me why I fall in love
Even when it hurts.
Your nails digging deeper
Slowly down my back
Remind me how to love,
By crying out your name.
When your lips touch mine,
Your body has a way of telling
me every one of your secrets.

I can't write without a muse.
When you left, I didn't forget you
I just lost touch of my words.
When you left, you took my
Motivation, in some sense of the word.
Without your hands to hold,
Fingertips to tangle in my hair,
Tongue to swirl with mine in
Some soft romantic tango
I am just a sad poet of no words.