She calls me, sometimes when I’m working on something else.  I ignore her, but she’s insistent.  The calls keep coming, over and over, disturbing me.  I ignore her the best I can, but she just keeps calling
She calls me, sometimes when I’m in a conversation.  Again, I ignore her, but she’s insistent.  She wants my attention, my undivided attention.  I ignore her the best I can, but she swears what she wants is more important.
She calls me, sometimes in my sleep.  I ignore her, needing the rest for a while.  She wants me, as usual.  I ignore her the best I can, but she wants me to do her bidding.
She calls me, sometimes when I’m talking to a girl I like.  I ignore her, doing the best I can to focus on the girl.  She is outraged that anything would come before her.  I ignore her, but her sultry sweet voice has become a screaming banshie.
She calls me.  I love her, I embrace her, I surround myself with her.  We move as one, my fingers doing her bidding.  It becomes a sweet symphony of emotion and thoughts.  I no longer ignore her, giving myself to her fully.
She calls me.  My Muse calls me again, and I must keep her happy, for someday, she may quit calling.
———– Writing Notes ————–
Another bit inspired by a combination of a phone conversation, a Twitter comment, and my writing on the book Muse. Still not exactly the worlds best poetry, but I rather liked it 