The Muse

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You are my funny secret.

If only people knew what I find inspiration in, what’s my true muse, if my secret is out, everyone will suddenly realize how simple the world is.

Through your changing colours, depth of shades and the shadows that change in size; your capacity did only grow to embrace me more. With the million small ideas running in my head and the enormous dreams that can’t find a big enough outlet, you’ve stayed the one and only inspiration– the reason I hang on to writing. Maybe not the reason I write, but you are the reason all of this started when I was 5. The reason I still hold a pen and let the ink paint down gardens of thoughts and compose written melodies. 

At a point in my life, you were nothing. Just another figure that shares the land I walk on. You were nothing and that gave you the possibility of becoming something. It’s not really what you are that makes people overlook you, it’s what they think you’re not. But you’re beautiful. So beautiful. You’re the one thing I won’t let anyone distort or ruin for me.

For me, you’re a connection to a past that I never lived, a love that I never met and stories I’ve never heard.  Every time I look at you I remember the man who loved me infinitely and never got the chance to watch me grow. You don’t know how precious you are.

But perhaps, what keeps you precious, what keeps you inspiring and what makes me keep you as a secret muse is that if I tell what you are, you’ll lose that shine. I am the only one who gets you.

I hear you.

You make up for all the Friday mornings I missed out on.

You are a thousand tales I wish I’ve heard.

You are the warmth I only get by looking at.

You’re what people stopped noticing.

You’re what I hold so dear to my heart.

You were never mine, but you’re of me. You are for me.

Of me. For  me. You shall remain my funny secret. My.

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