What happens when two artists coalesce? Magic. What happens when two artists fall in love? Fire. I can’t describe what happened tonight as it is a series of events that shook me to the core. I said goodbye to the “Quiet Man” not too long ago, as he broke my heart and would forever be the “bad boy” I painted him out to be. I have my reservations about him, and I swore I would stay away from our usual “hangout.”
But he saw me tonight. My wit, my humor, my sass, and oh my delicious lips gave me away. Instantly, he knew he had to make his move. Immediately sparks flew and things heated up. “I owe you an explanation,” he said. Carefully, trying not to trip on my own words the mere shock that he was speaking to me, I say, “what it is it then.” He takes his time and chooses his next words carefully. “I was afraid, you went deep with me, I needed a way out, I used any excuse, it was unfair and I am sorry, I don’t expect you to forgive me. The truth is, I fell in love with you. Head over heels, and I couldn’t stop myself because I was hurt before, if you turn me away I understand.”
I took a moment to compose myself. He had seen me over the past few weeks, just lurking in the background, not saying much but letting my presence be known. I gave him his space. I don’t even know what I was doing there, but when I went there I knew he would be there and I just couldn’t help myself. I loved this man a long time. Since even before the first night we made love. I fall in love way too easily, and the men I have met over the past few months have been diligent in dancing on my heart-strings.
But the artist that the “Quiet Man” is, is just magic. He described the moon to me and showed me how it was tonight. With the first ice crystals in the air, there was a ring around it that made it remarkable. Like nothing you had ever seen. As we sat there and as we admired the moon, we spoke about my art and all the architecture he likes to design. He even let me hear a music piece he had worked on after we had parted ways weeks ago. “Whispering” it was called, and there was a melancholy tone to it, almost like a broken heart.
Two artists, on a crisp October night who came together again and stayed up with each other into the early hours of the morning like we used to not too long ago. “I cried for you. I never kneel or bow to any man, but the night you left me, I was on my knees for you drenched in tears.” “That is no place for a Goddess” His goddess, that’s what I am. This man tormented himself back and forth for the past two weeks, while I had moved on in my own version of Hell. With my mom being in the hospital, and me feeling like a slut to these men I tried to replace him with, nothing has been right since he left. I thought I had come out of it when the Literary showed up, but like so many young men his age, they are nothing but empty promises.
I will stroke my brush on his skin, he will play his notes on my body. We will create, we will fornicate. I think this one might actually stick this time, but I have said that so many times before. The only difference is between him and the other men? This one told me he loved me. He didn’t even fuck me tonight, so there was no “agenda” behind it, like there almost always is. It was just pure emotion.
Just one artist to another, making love through art and music.
Let’s see what comes of this one.