My muse has smooth dark brown skin that I like to caress when I need some real inspiration to weave my tales. He has dark piercing eyes that see deep inside of me, so he knows what I’m working with to give me what’s missing.
My muse’s voice is so deep and smooth, it coats me like warm honey because he knows I need it like that to hear him. His lips curve into a smile when I finally get what he’s telling me, pushing me to do.
My muse is demanding, unyielding, but he gives me praise when I get it just right. Then my words pour out of me like water. He helps it to flow, he helps me to see, and to hear- sometimes with the help of soulful music.
I love my muse and my muse loves me.