I always understood he’d turn around,
devoted to the muse, not earthly love.
I give more inspiration lost than found.
Longing’s what a poet’s art is made of.

His devotion’s to the muse, not earthly love.
Though I missed family, chocolate, parties, sun,
longing’s what a poet’s art is made of.
His desires versus mine – of course his won.

I miss family, chocolate, parties, sun.
I miss my body, soft wind on my skin.
His desires versus mine – of course his won.
He wouldn’t save me from this hell I’m in.

I miss my body, soft wind on my skin,
the sound of my own voice, the smell of rain.
Though no one saves me from this hell I’m in,
his lauded songs are all about his pain.

He took back my voice, the smell of rain
since I’m more inspiration lost than found.
He’s lauded for the songs about his pain.
I always understood he’d turn around.

Alison Stone is the author of nine full-length collections, as well as three chapbooks. Her poems have appeared in The Paris Review, Poetry, Ploughshares, Barrow Street, Poet Lore, and many other journals and anthologies. She has been awarded Poetry’s Frederick Bock Prize, New York Quarterly’s Madeline Sadin Award, and The Lyric’s Lyric Poetry Prize. She was Writer in Residence at LitSpace St. Pete. She is also a painter and the creator of The Stone Tarot. A licensed psychotherapist, she has private practices in NYC and Nyack.