When my muse wakes up screaming in the middle of the night
my brain always tries to soothe her.
My heart, still snoring, just beats.
When my muse dreams of silence, of me losing my will to write
my brain has the words of comfort.
My heart has a harder time waking up.
When my muse twists and turns, mumbles, fights with all her might
against my fear of failure,
my inferiority complexes,
my general inadequacies,
my ghosts and demons
and everything her nightmares are made of,
that’s when my heart steps in
to remind her – gently –
that we love to write.
This was not at all what I had in mind when I sat down to write this… *sigh* I usually don’t do well with non-rhyming pieces, but in this particular case I’ll let my muse have her way. The poem is written for Pooky’s Poems, and her prompt#7 An Antidote to Nightmares.