The muse

fills up the mind

the soul.

The curiosity surrounds him

out of control.

The way words flow

is all his fault.

Comparison, description

the magic in the words.

The fire in his eyes

from the soul in where it once burned.

Angelic in ways

I could never describe

yet damned to hell for sure.

The way he hides it

deep inside

every tender, aching bruise.

The soft caress

the everything

the beauty of

the muse.