There is no fire left in the belly
No passion to unleash.
The ravenous hunger broke its teeth on time
Replaced by a constant ache
That dulls the eyes.
My Muse followed Hope wherever it is going,
Far away where the air vibrates
With each peal of laughter,
Moans of pleasure,
And contented sighs;
Where the bluest skies
Meet the greenest trees
And touch gently in whispers.
My Muse follows the sun
Smiling at lovers.
She left me again in a gray and silent house,
Gazing at death,
Watching its grip tighten in white knuckles
On fragments of thoughts,
Senseless, empty chuckles,
Cryptic gestures and vacant stares.
My Muse left me
To contemplate the end of the line.
As she stepped out the door
She shrugged and without mercy said:
“Deal with it.”