Apparently i’m telling you guys about my experience of liking an artist?

Being in love with an artist is heartbreaking

You are in love with him and he is in love with his ex

While you admire him, he obsesses over a woman he lost years ago because he was selfish and young

When you walk through your own home now, every wall bares a painting of a woman you’ve never met but you feel as if you know because of him

Her eyes, which should be lifeless, are filled with burning passion that is not directed at you

And you know it is not her own, but the man’s who has spent so much time trying to recreate the perfect image of her

She stares back at you with different emotions

Grief

Lust

Loss

And in the strokes of paint that create her, you see him

Your lover has a hunger you cannot  satiate because you are not the woman of his desire

But a mere substitute to pass the time

And although you love him, his work, his passions

You do not love her

You are jealous, envious

You wish she would disappear from your home, your life, him

But she will stay and so will your heartbreak

And you will try to force an incompatible morphing between you and her

In image, because that is all you have

You do not know much about her, so how could you duplicate what he recreates

And you know that you are not enough