My Muse

He was beauty personified; what every man should be. At least, that's how I saw him. I saw deep into his eyes, all the way down into his soul. It was the same way he saw me, really. I always wanted to write about Julian, to photograph him and even simply watch him as he worked. He fascinated me. Maybe it was because he seemed to love me so unconditionally and I never thought that could be possible. 

Whatever that thing was that we had, it still exists even though he's gone. It hovers in the air like the sweet smell of honeysuckles in the hot summer sun. I still feel butterflies when I think of our first kiss. A smile still spreads across my face when I think of his laughter. That love we had gives me a feeling, a confidence that no force can take away from me. Sometimes, something or someone comes along and they try to shatter my sweet memories of Julian, but our love is shatter-proof; nothing can ever ever destroy what we had. Nothing and no one can ever make me feel the way I did before I met him - my soul mate, my muse. 

Julian is not just a memory. He is not just a man who was and now is dead. He is a part of me. I feel his essence, his spirit, his inspiration running through me. It does not grow weaker with each day since he's been gone; it grows stronger, more vibrant, more alive than it ever was. Talking out loud to Julian is nothing strange for me now. Hearing him ask me "Are you okay, my love?" is just part of my daily routine now. It doesn't bring tears, but it comforts me. It comes from inside me, because Julian lives deep within in my heart. He is not dead. He is here. He dances with our little girl in her dreams, he brushes my hair from my face as I wake each morning.

My muse. My love. My heart. My soul. I miss the flesh, the body that I could touch and the lips that I could kiss, but that is purely the physical part of Julian that lays sleeping in his grave. The part of him that I love so very deeply is still here.