My Muse

You make
Me feel
Alive.
Not dead.
Or wishing I were.

I smile,
Aware
That you
Are not the same
As They are.
Different instead.
And it draws me
Like nicotine sticks
Draw hungry mouths.

Tiny shots of
Inspiration
Get me every time,
Even though
Your eyes
Hold no needle
And neither do
Your hands.

Amazed
By every
Tiny, minuscule
Word or
F r a g m e n t e d
Sentence.
So long as it is
Uttered from
Your mouth
And your mouth alone.

by sandra geisell

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