I wandered the streets of Beirut looking for something, for someone. I didn’t know that what I wanted was waiting for me around the corner.
My homeland was no longer the place that I’ve loved since birth, Beirut is now where I look for another adventure, for another muse that I leave behind and go write endlessly about.
It was a new place but with a very familiar face. A face that gave me a kind of joy that I haven’t felt before, not because it made my heart race nor made my panties wet.
It was a face that reminded me of very happy days, a face that gave me hope, a face that heard me talk endlessly about some stupid stuff back in the days.
It wasn’t nostalgia, it was a home. The warmth I’ve found in that muse was unbeatable.
He was there wearing his white shirt, I haven’t seen him in years. He was there being him, just the way I left him and I couldn’t be happier.
It felt so good to feel like you belong, not to somewhere, not to someone but to a feeling. I’ve never fell in love with him and I will never do but he always had something special in him.
Four years later, I officially discovered how much of a muse he is to me. It all started when we closed the door behind us and locked it. There was someone with me, I wasn’t hallucinating this time.
Clothes to us that night were like a prison cell that we couldn’t wait to get out of. The dim light in the room, drew the most beautiful silhouette I’ve ever seen. He sat on the floor, his back against the bed, he lit a cigarette and looked at me.
It wasn’t the first time but it felt like it. I was nervous, I was excited and I was looking forward to be locked in that room.
I was so high on the chemistry that was there, wasted on the attraction that I had for him.
It was one of the few times that we didn’t have music playing in background. It was only the two of us.
We were synchronized.
Years passed us by since the last time I saw him but when I sat next to him, I felt like I was looking at the back of my hand. We changed, we both did but we still get along perfectly.
I couldn’t tell him how much I’ve missed his face, his kisses, his skin… How much I’ve missed him. But I’m sure he knows how much of a woman he makes me feel, how much of a queen I am when we are alone.
I was laying in bed next to him, trying to catch a breath when he hugged me like it was the last time I’m seeing him. I’ve heard him talk, I’ve watched him sleep.
I’ve laid my head on his chest like I always do and I smiled, I just wanted to stay there and I knew well that even though he’s tough but he’s not a machine.
He’s a human with feelings, he’s someone that makes me feel safe.
He’s my muse.