the muse and I
are having yet another
state of the union
addressing
affairs of the heart.
she has spread out before me
love letters
my chest so full of pride
the intoxicating scents
waft, slipped into
envelopes
moistened with her tongue.
no longer do we speak the same language
which threatens
an already uneasy alliance
backroom negotiations
the players
have changed
but this cold war
has never ended
temperature
kept well below freezing
pen, hovering above the page.