She lives
in the realm between truth
and desire,
where merging muses
run like rivers.
A breath of fresh
expression.
She opens her home
to inspiration.
She is
a melodic impulse,
with moods that sway
and swing.
Soaring in sunlit skies,
diving into the depths
of dark nights.
She breaks and mends
the hearts in her hand
She moves
in rhythmic descent.
A gentle touch
that thrives
in passion embodied.
Weaving her way
through worlds of words,
released to capture.
She stitches the wounds
she inflicts.
She is
the bearer
of unborn brilliance,
the mother
of preconceived craft,
the work of lyrical art
emerging
in the glimmer of dawn.
A masterpiece
draped in golden light.
She is mine.
My soul,
my spirit spilled.
The trailing ink
of my confessions.
She is the escape
and the light
that guides me home.
The rising voice
from deep within,
speaking my unspoken.
She is the secret
she tells.
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