Venus

sweet stalker

He looks at her.

Her hypnotic, dirt-coloured eyes shine bright full of wisdom and judgement. Her full, soft-seeming, rosy lips form a slight pout. Her autumn satin locks falls over her shoulders, the perfect cut framing her angelic face.

He has never been any closer to the chance of her noticing him than right now. It is only 30 feet of plain air in between distancing them.
If she only turned her head around, he would be able to lock eyes with her.
This time she would see him too.
This time he wouldn't be alone.
This time it would be reality.

This time he would melt right in front of her. He would fall onto his knees, same as the weakling he is.

His heart stops in its motion, but never has he felt more alive than in this moment.
His lungs cannot function, but never has he felt more alive than in this exact moment.
His body freezes, but never, no, never in his entire life has he ever felt more warmth surrounding his chest/body.

His heart, his lungs, his body.
How ignorant of him to call those his when she clearly has stolen them from the body only she is holding alive?

A vessel whose soul she has taken in.

Oh, how he loves her.
Oh, how he loves every facette she has to offer.
Oh, how he loves fantasizing about her and interpreting her every little move.
Oh, how he loves viewing at her dancing in the dark of the night where she seems to be in solitude.
Oh, how he loves looking away when she lets the cloth wrapping her curves slip off, imagining the feeling of him doing it and then feeling guilty for thinking of her in such a undignified way.
Oh, how he loves painting paintings with her as his inspiration - his muse.
She is his muse.

What a fool he is.

66 portraits. Murals, oil paintings, frescoes, drawings, watercolors, graffitis and so many more.

He could fill an art gallery with only her and no visitor would get tired of those orbs watching them.

He cannot get tired either, waiting for those same orbs to look into his.

If she only turned around.

If she only saw him.

If he only knew,

Oh, how she loves to crumble under his never ending gaze.

(me every night when looking at myself)