He struggled to get to get the words right. No. He always had the words right, he just struggled to get them out.
They were all there, all those beautiful, perfect words just swimming around in the soup of his consciousness, caged inside his skull, an unjust prison.
It was no good, struggling, he accepted. He knew what was missing and what needed to be done.
I need you he breathed wordlessly, my beautiful muse I’ve always needed you.
She was always there to inspire him, she never failed. Her dead eyes gleamed lifelessly inside her rotting face.