What - another bloody Muse poem?
My heart broke on her firm resolve. That's fair.
I had mistaken friendship for desire
In both of us. She sniffs, senses the fire
the smouldering that was not ever there
in all the hours we talked. Her eyebrow's curve
A perfect question. Smiles. I look away
gaze at the one with whom I've spent all day
just chatting. There's bliss I do not deserve
both in the hint of pique and in her smile
accepting I moved on. Intelligence
means that all three can act with elegance
pass off a moment. It is not a trial
but here Muse stands, notices the pause
stretches a little, knows she needs no claws.