⟨ status: complete ⟩
"They say artists are nothing but sad people, unaccepted by society of who they are. Masking themselves in 'personas' to fit in." She turned to him, placing her beloved paintbrush on the table with her face adorning a beautiful...
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There came an allegory of the selfish man.
"Two stars, my Moon, where are you?" He thoughtlessly sang,
"Two stars, my heart, what must I do?" He sung all the time.
He stared at the evening sky which his Moon had, eyes shut and fell asleep, arms outstretched. "I reach for you," he whispered.
He is selfish for he loves, he is selfish for he longs, he is selfish for he fears.
"I reach for you everyday, my mind and heart cries, longing for you." Breathed he, breathed as if the bright moon was his only reason that he lives.
Spinning-wheel, spinning reel, whir— whir— whir. And around it goes.
"Craft I did, the most elegant of silk. All for you, love."
Spinning-wheel, spinning reel, whir— whir— whir. And broken it goes. Overused.
"Selfish, selfish, selfish man. You cannot buy genuine affection." The winds howl, it blew his rooftop off in spite. One is not shallow enough to be bought with such useless lavish gifts.
Selfish man, dear broken man. How I told you so.
You spend too much on useless things, now you reap what you had sown.
Selfish man, selfish man, my broken man. You love too much, give too much, now you left where you began.
"Everything I give and do, it is all for you."
"Everything you offer and do, is not what I want, you fool." Sweet moon cried, heavy dew drops fell on cloud-like forests; saddened and frustrated were they, for the man had yet to realize that:
"Silly, silly, silly man. All I want is you and nothing more, you buffoon."
Silly selfish man, he who asked for love, he who wants the Moon. Silly selfish man.
Flowers given withering and wilted at the doorstep of her little workshop, Camilo did not fail to leave bouquets of flowers to her everyday, and today is no exception, it was a silent gesture of an apology. He could not forgive himself for accidentally hitting her in a fit of blinding jealousy, disgusting, childish jealousy.
"I'm sorry, amor." He spoke, not expecting an answer. Sitting on her doorstep, his back leaning against the wooden door.
"I, I didn't mean to hurt you. You know I will never intentionally hurt you. I'm sorry."
