Genre: Romance

Plot: An artist who lost their muse

Words to use: mind, thought, dream, inspiration, drive, satisfaction, vibrant, betrayal, fall, wander, dervish, poet, direction, compass, soul

His mind turned to the memories of his muse and momentary love. He remembered the afternoons locked in embrace and the sweat that beaded on their skin. He remembered the way she would comb his hair with her long fingers as they kissed. She was his inspiration.

He laid upon the chaise lounge in his studio, looking up toward the near decrepit ceiling. He thought that he would never again find someone who could inspire him as Amelia. What was he to do? His drive to create will be diminished. The thoughts were a dervish, contemplating what he was to do with the loss so impactful as his one love, his art and inspiration in life. He rested his hand over his heart in anguish, closing his eyes, a tear rolled down the side of his face. It was all a bad dream that he wished to wake up from sooner than later. 

HIs memories were filled with the soft lines of her body as she stayed motionless for hours and he feverishly painted, capturing the light that radiated off her feminine curves. He was rather demanding on her time. He was rigid in his direction; how she was to pose for him and the length of time. Those many hours together with only the sound of his profession; the brush on the canvas, his cursing under his breath, irritated at his work not going as planned, and the soft sound of a radio in the background playing jazz music. Satisfaction came when the piece came together finally. The lines, proportions, and the light was perfectly created on the two dimensional surface of the canvas. That was when he again became vibrant. A poet of the oil, brush and canvas. They would celebrate the finish of his piece of art in the studio, two people alone in the world. For months they would both sit, her in her robe, him in his artist’s overalls, smoke and drink whiskey, usually straight, and talk about life. At first he just saw her as a means to an end, just like another piece of furniture, vase or flower that would sit before him. He had determined his moral compass was to be professional.

One day it changed. He felt his attention wander to her bare shoulder that curved up toward her long neck. He leaned closer and kiss that bare skin on her shoulder and she didn’t draw away. The smell of her skin was of roses and lavender. Her face turned toward him and he saw the warm teal green of her eyes and beautiful long lashes. A sly smile was on her pink mouth. He continued up her neck while she turned her head, inviting the sweet kisses from his lips. Waves of passion overtook both of them. It had built up over the months and it finally burst. It seemed inevitable. It took one fall to make everything complicated. 

There was no indication to him of her betrayal. She never gave any indication of her abandonment of him and their love. He believed that her soul was part of his and there would be no end but he was wrong. He was guilty of naivety of this part of life. It was new and exciting at first but now, he couldn’t bear it.

He drew himself up, grabbed his whiskey glass, slugged it down in one gulp and went out of the studio. The air in the studio stifled him. He needed fresh cool air to think about his next move. A lesson learned. A chapter in his life ended. Onto a new chapter. The little scar on his heart will heal and be tougher than before he surmised. A little bit bitter but wiser.