They ask me not to move, five minutes, then ten, it’s been two hours already. Posing is the most boring (in)activity I can think of, especially when you remember that you won’t get paid for it. If it wasn’t for Charles, I wouldn’t be there, posing next to him where I would belong if the world was working right.
Maybe not… after thinking about it. Two days ago we even broke up … again. That happened at list twice a month, even more sometimes. It’s not even his fault half of the time, but the way they look at me, his so called friends, or their society. Always looking down on me, like I’m nothing, less than human. Savage is what I am to them, and even when he try to defend me, it’s painful. Worst even, because it feels like he parade around with me like I am his exotic catch.
Only in the bed, when he look at me, really look at me that I see the love, that I feel loved. Of all the men falling asleep in my bed, he is the only one who ever stayed. That’s why today, as bored as I am, I’m not moving from his side.
I’ll never understand why there isn’t more informations about poet’s muses, because to inspire them they had to be very inspiring ✨