I have always been an artist. But my art was never great until I met you. Because all truly great art has something I had previously lacked. A muse. No, not just a muse, I had that. What I lacked was something I loved enough to be my true muse, something I could never improve, only recreate.
Very few artists ever have that kind of muse, and if they do, then they don't always realize it. You where my one true muse. And now that your gone, I can't paint. Physically, yes, but mentally, it would rip me to pieces, mor so than it already has.
So I don't paint anymore, at least not on any canvas other than myself with a sharp brush of metal.
YOU ARE READING
Unstable (NaNoWriMo)
Short StoryYou think you know what love is? Well you don't. Know why? It doesn't exist. All it is is a chemical reaction in your brain that leaves you unstable. There is a fire burning on the edges of my soul, consuming my sanity.
