That beautifully artistic but hectic struggle with that amazing muse. Every artist knows she can be so mysterious.
does she want to leave like a solar eclipse that comes then goes.
does she want to drop this relationship like a fumble never to recover it.
does she yearn to spar with my soul just to leave it there, bare, bare like a nude hologram.
is she willing to enter into this world of fairy tale with me, even if a happy ending is not assured.
is she going to put up a fit or is she welcoming. Does the doormat read E-N-T-E-R or does it read N-O-T H-E-R-E, blotted out, faded from her memory.
does she want to lift me up like an archangel or does she want to badger me like a sniveling banshee.
is she there to be my written language and be the accolade to my creativity or will she be the demise of my intuition.