He decides to make these pages his home
And dances with my letters
Jumps from one stanza to the other
He makes all the letters in the alphabet seem so dull except the letters that belong to him
And my pen only knows how to write his name
So, everyone knows his name now
My poetry blushes as he holds it between his hands
And my words shyly move away as his eyes look closely at them
He fell in love with a writer
And he will forever exist in my poetry
I will remember him as I move my fingertips along these poems
And I will wet these pages with tears when he decides to leave
But he makes these yellow pages shine so bright
For once, I can see my poetry glow with happiness
As if he pours sugar everywhere, he moves
Making these words sweet enough for people to read
And people want to know him
They enjoy his presence between these lines
And constantly ask me to let him come out of these pages
But he doesn’t exist outside my poetry
And I want to keep him inside these books
Because he belongs to me
And I don’t want to share him with other poets
So, I lock him deep inside my art
And I take him everywhere I go
People don’t like my poetry
They like him
They want to read him
And get inspired by him
Because we all deserve him, need him
So, we cling on to him
And other writers try to create their own muse
Their own lover who lives in their poems
But my lover remains special
And he will forever exist
Because art never dies
And he is art
And he is poetry