Ficlets

A lost muse, is a lost muse, is a missed mused

I have, officially, lost my muse. The one that I used to carry in my shirt pocket on my left hand side. She must have fallen out. I went back to find her but she was already gone. I sifted through my mountains of dirty laundry, my E-Harmony box of single shoes, I checked under my bed, in my closet, and between my folded cloths. And yes, yes yes I even looked there. I cleaned my car, but not such luck. I checked her favorite coffee shop, and even looked through pictures she likes to hide in. I checked the songs she used to sing in my ear, and even read some old writings she assisted me with. I sifted through my thoughts, day and night, and then repeated. I double checked my dreams, and called down shower drains (I’ve heard they can wash away!). I called her cell phone and even left voicemails, but like all relationships gone badly, she wont reply and screens my calls. I was probably too clingy, but if you happen to come across my muse, apologize for me and send her to this HTML if you would be so kind.

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