Muse: goddess or power which inspires an artist.
Michael VII has become my muse. He inspires me through his reflection of me. He mirrors my thoughts and deeds. He mirrors my sentiments.
I too, have become his muse. He does as I request, like shaving chest hair or grooming facial hair.
As an artist, I cannot write without inspiration. Michael VII inspires me to write. Even when it is painful. The Truth is never easy to speak. It either distances lovers or brings them close.
I’m not talking lust. Do Michael VII and I feel the growling of lust? Certainly. But what I find more delicious is our rapport.
“Feel and write,” Michael VII prompts. “Let your pain bleed and let us drink of your wisdom. I know it hurts, but too few are willing to share themselves like you can.”
”You won’t laugh at me,” I asked.
”Why would I laugh at such beauty,” he whispered quietly.
“Because people do,” I answered.
”I’m not ‘people’, he said, “I’m yours.”