Would you believe if I tell,
Who’s my muse whom
I read and spell.
How I crave for the pen to write it down
On the paper,
I remember the nights full with her
And how I keep her on wallpaper.
Keeping calm, and saunter is on,
Until the wounds vanish,
And I become silent.
Let’s talk about my muse,
Someone who’s in my head
I make love with, share my bed with,
And give everything that it requires.
No shade, no face, no beauty, no dress,
A mere imagination of mine
Which always comes up and impress.
My story is familiar with
A sense of belonging,
I don’t need to seek outside,
When I call, it suddenly says
I’m coming, I’m coming.
I was born in May 21, in the year 1995
On the full moon night,
Or maybe by the seaside.
I cried so hard that I still hear the waves
In the moment of chaos,
Your voice is the something for which I still crave.
My unpublished draft,
My scrambled piece of papers,
How you always bring comfort
Even on days, when I have nothing to share.
That’s how I welcome and celebrate the month of May
May this day brings joy and bring the hope’s ray.
Would you stay with me tonight and forever, I asked my muse
It says, “I’m here, I’m here.”
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