Treasure Island

Graveyard Of Little Muses

(7 march 1988)

Worthless Poet And A Muse


To compare the sun to you,
the feathered sun,
slipping
through the ocean's every shade of blue,
slipping in and out of every heart,
but mostly out of mine
I cannot do this to you.
I'm not that cruel.

To compare your heart to any heart,
it would make me a fool.
Why don't you realise
that you're more
more beautiful than my poems.
I'm tired of making you my muse.

I'm worthess, I'm not like you.

Submitted: Wednesday, July 10, 2013
Edited: Thursday, July 11, 2013
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