Muse

As she was slowly smothered by time,
Her memory, her laughs,
The imperfect perfections,
The ink in my pen had started to wither,
Betrayed by the mind,
Or by a drug of different kind,
My end is near,
The ink had run its spell,
My pen slipped into my ear,
Maybe she can save you,
The one who dares to be your muse O dear…..