The Muse is Gone

I screwed up with Her.
She called me coward
for the Three Words 
I could not say.

“It’s not my fault”, “It’s shameful”,
“Most inappropriate”,
“I did not have the chance”,
“I’d look foolish and pathetic”

-I replied to her-

“Time has run out, my dear.
Now deal with it”

Tears over morning coffee
is never a good sign.

Back to watch documentaries
on History Channel,
might bring me to numbnessland
again.

To forget the gentle strokes
of your hands on mine,
the thrill and the chemistry
hitting like lightning on a quiet lake.

Living life in blurred grey:
No feel,
no hope,
no pain.

Is it too late?

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