L I B I T I N A

MUSE

I've never completely been able to reach the one I've loved. I have not been imparted the wisdom to traverse the enormous gap that loomed between me and them. Oh, I do adore them nonetheless. I have loved them so deeply that it has torn a hole in my heart and crept out. It— that part of me—the one that accepts the brutality—understands how to reach them. I gaze with delight as It—that which is not quite human—crawls to my muse.

(Perhaps my sentiments are the true muse. I know it exists; I will watch it and be in awe of its beauty and the brutality from a distance, but never up close. I will see it, but I will never attain it, for I know my muse will attain it. Perhaps a small bit of it will entice me. Entice me to succumb into it, but I know I could never give in to it.).