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My muse is an eternal stranger.

Her lips glint
with an ever-distant sweetness.
They hint my jaws with pins and needles,
How I yearn for such daily pain!
I could almost always pucker to receive her.
Will my bites on my tongue ever capture
those secret smiles I daily witness?

And Oh! When she says my name!
Such intensity I wish to clench in my fist.
How I want to pull her close to me!
How I long for everyday revelations
within her grins! Could I be faulted
for missing her even if she is with me?

My muse is an eternal stranger.

I know her, yet she surprises me
every time with her different names -
Names that play different voices to command me!
How incapable am I of myself
when she calls to hold me!
When her fingers ask for my palm,
I lose my hand for her touch.
How can someone I know, I could never fully
know so much.

Yet how could I be comforted
in this restlessness by the mystery of her sighs?
How is it that there is stillness and peace
in this insanity, when understanding her means
the end of my understanding of me?

Oh! How will it be if I lose her?

She is with me,
yet I love to find her again and again.
It is perhaps this why I long for her every time.

She will always be a stranger
and because of that I will love her.
She will always be the woman
I will seek for an introduction
and because of that she will be my pain.

2005 Jardine Davies

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The following comments are for "The Stranger"
by webguy

My Muse
I wrote this for my real-life muse ... She kissed me after she read it :-)

( Posted by: webguy [Member] On: April 19, 2005 )

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