my muse

i sit around


where i'm at in this hour

well i thought, i'm out of my world

into everyone else's

cos i sit there

looking around

and there is nothing but

my own muse in front of me

upon the table

where i sat down and write my bleeding flown away words

on paper


and only i could say them in my own way

without loudest converse

of flowing echoes

as i sit,

watching you grow on me

i guess you're my muse

my second mirror

but how?

oh how?

i am you

you're just me

and when are we going to be that butterfly

in my own pink hourglass?

cos i wander, pondering

through sweet thoghts

like walking upon an eerie light

you linger my shadow

and simply turn sky blue

oh yes, i'm back in my world

where there is pink coloring

my soul

and butterflies flying all around me

forget everyone else

i got my own you

musing my own muse

so when am i going to be that butterfly?


Jac said...

I like that muse kai

floots said...

the final "comlete" form of a butterfly is called an imago
the plural is imagines
it may be pronounced differently but for me it is too right to be a coincidence
you can all become butterflies when we use our muse - our imaginesations :)
love this one kai
hope my comment makes sense

polona said...

you already are that butterfly, kai!

Anonymous said...

I luv your muse... you're such an inspiration I can't wait to spread my wings and fly with you. Keep writing with a passion :)

... I can vision this "i am you you're just me and when are we going to be that butterfly in my own pink hourglass?"

Kai C. said...

thank you everyone!:)