Tag Archives: creative writing

Feb 22 Muse

He held the warm mug between both hands, inhaling the heavy smell of coffee and shrinking away from the cold January air coming in every time a new patron opened the door. Indistinct music filled his mind enough to distract his musings. He waited with a lingering salty taste from the croque monsieur gulped a few moments before. Soon he felt her presence in the syrupy scent floating in his direction.

“Did you wait long?”

“No,  just enough to eat something quick.”

“Sorry, I got held up in group work.”

“Oh, were you studying with.. Who were you studying with today anyway?”

“Just some of the girls, you know. The usual people.”


“I’m starving; can I order something now? You ate already, right? Do you mind?”

“No, no, go ahead.”



“What’s up?”

“What do you mean? Go ahead, you can eat.”

“That’s not what I mean.  There’s something up. You definitely have this look right now, you know, a look that’s screaming at me, even if you’re silent.”

“How can I be screaming if I’m silent.”

“Don’t give me that, you know what I’m talking about.”


“Oh my God, what the hell is wrong now? How did I make you mad now?”

“You never make me mad. I just get mad on my own.”

“Ok, I can’t take this right now. I’m leaving, I don’t care what your problem is. Call me when you calm down if you want to talk.”

“Don’t walk out.”

“Then talk to me. Don’t start with this whole not-talking routine. I can’t put up with this bullshit.”

“You always find excuses to leave me alone.”

“This is not an excuse; we’ve talked about this before. I will not sit here and beg you to tell me what’s wrong. I thought that whole part of our relationship was done, you know? I can’t take it”

“I don’t mean just now.”



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Feb 15th Muse

Lying on his stomach, we find a man; tattered clothes, tattered memory. He’s not awake, but he’s not sleeping. The ground beneath him feels soft and the grass shines sprinkled with early morning dew. Moisture particles float around him soundlessly, cold air engulfs his senses, but the sun begins to shed its dark covers. And the live earth is still.

There are bright spots here and there. They may be lights, but I’m not sure. When I open my eyes I see blurs and stars and darkness rushing at me. So I close my eyes. How long have I been here? How did I get like this? I don’t feel sick. I must open my eyes. Now. Now is the time. Rushing, rushing, rushing, everything is rushing at me. Oh God, how can I open my eyes?

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