His Muse

In a place filled with golden lights and posh decorations with people dancing in their best gowns and suits, his faded, ripped jeans and deep, eerie eyes caught my attention. Call it a coincidence or destiny but we both reached the banayan tree at the same time. I was running away from the world I never felt I belonged to and he was running away from the cops. His eyes contained a shade of grey, a little bit of twinkle and a world full of mischief. Little did I know that I would be another victim of his travelling soul. They all told me to stop but I was bored with the sight of sea shore. I wanted a taste of deeper water. So I went forward, placing my foot carefully, hoping not to fall but I did fall and his arms weren’t there to catch me. On the rooftop, under the misty stars, I counted the number of scars on his body and he wrote his name on my back. I asked him if he belived in forever and unapologetically, without even thinking for a moment, he said what I didn’t want to hear, “I don’t think I do.” That should’ve been the red flag but my eyes were oblivious to all his imperfections. Why was I heartbroken and shocked when he left? I should’ve expected it since the starting. So in the end, I became another one of his muse about which he wrote a couple of poetries and he became the forever I was waiting for.


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