It Starts

It starts the way it started, suddenly;
her words appeared and she became my muse,
before I sensed the coming harmony,
I heard her voice and I could not refuse.
My heart reached out and gave itself away.
My mind rebelled, my stupid fucking mind.
My soul rejoiced and knew that it would stay.
My words prepared with her to intertwine.
It starts again when fate has grabbed my throat
and squeezed the breath from my constricted chest.
It starts when I have nothing to denote
the words I want to say, the worst and best.
In hope that from fate’s grasp I may be freed,
I gasp, and simple poetry concede.

Leave a Reply