The artist and his muse

The artist and his muse

Maybe we were meant to be like this. 
You were the artist.
I was your muse.
And when we met, we filled the air with passion.


You never loved me. Neither did I ever love you.
Yet, we found ourselves consoling one another in ways of which only we knew.
It was our little world.
Where you were the artist.
And I was your muse.


We fought because we were dissatisfied.
We both longed for love.
And somewhere,
We lost each other too.
The artist lost his goddess.
The muse lost her worshipper.


I must confess something.
Somewhere along the lines,
Our roles may have interchanged too.
There were times
When you became my muse
Your body stood out like a Greek God’s statue
Which I longed to touch.
But, I didn’t let you know that.


Because I wanted you
To be the artist
To my muse.





**image courtesy- Google**

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Radha Iyer

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