the writer or the muse.
you feel like poetry/
sharp, like edges on a fresh page.
that cut if you don’t handle with care.
you feel like poetry/
warm, like a flame can,
if you get just close enough to it.
what’s the difference between close enough and too close?
and at what point are you too far gone?
i swear, i can’t tell the difference these days.
or perhaps, i just never learned to tell.
you feel like poetry/
real, like poems you read so many times, they archive as true stories do.
what was real
and what was not ?
i guess, that just depends on who you ask…
the writer or the muse.