Muse

In the midst

Of a fall,

Or a mere outburst

Of emotions,

In a place,

Extraordinary,

I’ll make you my muse.

Where trees will be still,

A place that tranquil,

I’ll look into your eyes,

Search for your ties,

With the world,

Some others, beyond,

And put them to test.

A test so perfect,

That’ll swiftly detect,

All your lies,

Lows and highs,

And before you blink,

Or let this sink,

Your fears will be mine.

I’ll brush my hand,

Against your skin, tanned,

Feel you tremble,

Fumble,

For words and answers,

For favours and powers,

To get past my gaze.

I’ll read your face,

Awestruck, amazed,

At my art of examining,

Interpreting, understanding,

People and their ways,

Eagle and its gaze,

In their most admired fashions.

I’ll cut through your skin,

Let you grin,

And admire my audacity,

Pertinacity, my veracity,

Forgetting your open wound,

Having presumed,

It’ll heal in my presence.

I’ll make you my muse.

And in the midst of it all,

I’ll let you fall,

Precisely,

Extraordinarily,

Letting you hover above the highest skies,

Beyond all human ties.

You’ll be vulnerable,

Unscathed and susceptible,

My piece of art,

Encapsulating a beating heart,

Remarkable,

Exceptional,

You’ll be my muse, sensational.