#163 Art

#163Art

Being alone breeds discontent. If only I could find the right one, my life would be filled with joy. Love has eluded me and slipped away so many times before. Hope had disappeared because I was never smart enough to detect what was required to remain a duo.

I always felt I needed more, more of what I never knew. Then one day while surfing the Internet, Tethy’s helmet came into view. A metal sculpture created by my classmate, Laurie. Its brilliancy filled me with unfamiliar passion. The creator of this piece must have a zeal surpassing even mine, a better mind by many degrees and the ability to create beauty I only daydreamed of.

If I could only be with a genius such as this my need would be filled, and I could love the conceptions inside her head. They’d fulfill my dreams of loving splendor that never aged and never died.

After this, I saw Laurie in a different way. Her soft skin and her eyes, a brilliant blue, sucked me in. She had moist and yummy lips, shapely legs, and a gorgeous body I couldn’t live without. Before I met her, no one woman was ever enough for me to be dedicated to.

But an artist like her had beauty bursting through, and my desire was aroused like never before. I thought we would have been the perfect pair. She’d be my muse and I hers. I wanted to work with her and imagined what we’d create with my industrious work and her creative mind. I visualized statues reaching to the sky, armies of knights wearing helmets like Tethy’s, and of course I’d sculpt her in many forms, so her beauty could be shared with the entire world.

She thought differently than me and didn’t want me in her life. A travesty I thought. All the works building in my mind came crashing down. Rejected and dejected I built a goddess to adore. She stands in front of my house holding a spear and a snake to let everyone know a broken hearted artist lives here.

If Laurie ever drove by and saw the things I had built out of love for her, I wonder if her cold, cold heart would melt and invite me in. Or was she in love with Art and no one else? Would she think me a fool for loving what she can do without knowing who she is? Did it really matter that I had seen so many more years than her?

I dreamed one night that my goddess Boadicea came to life and her heart beat beneath her breasts of stone. Her emotions rose with each beat and her love for, me, her creator grew and grew, until that heart of stone was ready to burst.

When I awoke, I knew I was no longer alone and had found that special one. But a problem arose when I wanted her to come to bed. It was then I knew I could only worship her in my psyche and had to be content with her standing there guarding my front lawn.

Was it weird to adore a woman made of cement, I wondered; until I remembered all those I saw on their knees praying to a stone statue of some long dead saint. My Boadicea was alive in my mind and heart, so if I wanted, I could get on my knees and ask her to be mine. And I did.

Now I wait for night to come when Boadicea joins me in my dreams.

 

#163 Art