I Should Have Been Your Muse


I knew it in the instant our first words were exchanged, it would take a lifetime to forget you.

You were hollow and deep. Your eyes absent. The culmination of a life lived with the fullness of an unresolved despair.

When you looked at me, the embers within yearned to be ignited.

You introduced me to my inner world. Unleashed my playful side.

I could relive the fullness of dancing in the dark and the smell of the beach at night.

You introduced me to my ego and those places I had been neglecting to acknowledge; my contradictions and my creativity.

I was reborn.

You were an intricate blend of sweet and bitter. I could have listened to you talk forever; your mind alone made me weak.

I loved to breathe you in until every cell in my body was full.

In a lucid dream, I wanted to pull you into my reality where you held me like you wanted something to hold on to.

I’d waited forever for you, through what had seemed like a lifetime of heartbreak and lessons to learn about what I needed in the flesh.

Many had tried and failed.

I waited. I wanted.

I should have been your muse.

I wanted to hold your hand and heal your wounds. Rock you in my arms; your lover, your friend, your muse.

I wanted to be your lush garden, the place where you could go unraveled and undone.

We would reach for the unknown, the mystery of an enchanted love unfolding, creating masterpieces.

I wanted to lead you beyond the boundaries of your self-imposed limitations—be the fuel to your empire and the fantasy to your most basic days.

I stood naked in front of you, but you could not see me.

I should have been your muse.

And when the silence became deafening, the noisiness of your desire for her filled the empty spaces.

Those graceless spaces left me alone wandering in the dark.

You beamed a brightness for her I wanted to stand in, so full of pride to be alongside her.

I cried for the first time.

How convenient for you to become intoxicated by her untethered spirit, becoming drunken by her beauty.

The invisible landmines exploded revealing unfulfilled promises and days of feeling unseen.

I smiled like the evolved woman I’d become, happy for you, but the burning, aching brokenness sat low in my belly.

I should have been your muse.

But I rose and stood in my newly found power, I considered that maybe I reminded you too much of a place you feared to go.

Maybe the alchemy of our connection was complete.

Unlike the times before, I knew transformation would restore like never before.

What existed had to burn so all things may be swept clean. So that things could be made new; brighter, greener, lusher, more lovely than anything that bloomed before.

My heart emerged more open and stronger.

The only way to heal was through.

You see, I was never created to be your muse.

The moment we encountered, he knew I was the one.