Last request

Oh Muse,‘tis I, the one that cries

when a butterfly splatters

on the windshield as I drive

out of town to escape

vulnerability.

Your smile, a welcome companion

as the miles escalate along with

this longing burning like gasoline

fueling the heart with desire

as though it’s the driver

just waiting to turn

down your street of dreams

where you impatiently wait

for your fire

to be extinguished, sigh.

Oh muse, ‘tis I

the one who longs to place

in your eyes

a light as bright as

the one you promised to leave on

but I’m a little lost.

Did you say turn left or right?