Singing to a muse

Baby, you are on my mind
I invented you and as I wonder if you exist,
I know you are special whether I taste of you or not.
You left a mark, and I lost you within my words

You are a forbidden fruit I am biblically allowed to stare at
Your delicious taste is for other men and women and I am only left with an empty tree of knowledge

The task of desire and hearing the song you sing is a seventh day task
Rest and being lost for someone else in this world
I know you understand the situation
And no longer sing along to my song
You are the muse that refuses me
Technology cannot reach you and your unrequited soul.


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