Victim to my Muse

I can’t find a new way to be
So the old one exposes me.
Exits the elevator and waves to me
He was crossing in front down aisle 8.
In the car positioned where I sat in traffic,
witnessing all my whispers.
There’s a grief I hold.
I can’t throw you away.
And you take your place as the muse.
And wasn’t that always the point.

PG

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