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His Muse
April 14, 2016
He called me his muse, said I was just what he needed, that I was inspiring. He would stare at me, and when I caught him, he would smile. He told me I was a special kind of beautiful. I didn’t know what he meant. He said he needed me and that I would need him. We grew close and then nothing. He wouldn’t talk to me or look at me. He didn’t even say goodbye. I found out why I was beautiful, that special kind of beautiful was only when there was pain in my eyes, pain that he needed to create. I was his greatest piece, but nothing more.
© Rebecca B., Santa Clara, CA
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