Muse
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WpMetadataReadComplete Sat, Mar 5, 2016<5 mins
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Fiction
Romance
Tout artiste possède une muse, quelque chose qui l'inspire. J'avais ma Muse, oh ma si belle Muse, si énigmatique. J'ai eu la chance que dis-je le privilège de l'a frôler, pendant quelques instants j'ai pu profiter de son amour chaleureux. Et maintenant ? Que me reste-t-il maintenant ?
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Illustration

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(Teacherxstudent) It might have been the way her hand moved effortlessly across the canvas with every stroke she made, or the way her eyes would shine when speaking about her passion that she adored so much, or maybe it was her smile that seemed to captivate me every time. She was perfect in her own way, and I wish I could tell her how much happiness she brings into my life by being present. How all my worries and fears seem to drown away when she's near, or how a simple "hello" makes my day. The only thing stopping me from getting close to her is that diamond ring on her left hand, and how terrible of a person I feel every time I think about her in ways I'm not suppose to, and the fact that I couldn't bring her into my fucked up life. Oh, and because she's my art teacher. Mrs. Shuler, if only you knew how much I adore you.

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