I can’t get the color right!

I threw the paintbrush back into the jar, splattering red paint around, but I didn’t care. The mess was a small price to pay in this quest of excellence. I looked over at my subject laying on the lounge, staring at me. Was it judgment I saw in her eyes?

How dare she judge me.

I grabbed my paint tray and flung it at her in anger. The thin sheet that clung to her body becoming soiled in rainbow hues. She did not flinch at my tirade. Oh how that angered me more. Quickly I was on her. Squeezing her arms

“Don’t you dare judge me!” I screamed in her face, shaking her, slapping her, covering us both in the paint I had thrown only moments before.

And then I saw it.

That spark of wonderful beautiful blue dripping down her face. I gave her a long look and saw the mess from before now beauty. Prisms of color melting on her pale skin, highlighting how delicate she was. How fragile she was. She still did not talk as I lay her back down to resume my masterpiece.

And it was a masterpiece

I never appreciated her beauty before. Never saw how perfectly grey her eyes were. How plump her lips were. But how could I? Before she wasn’t calm. She wouldn’t listen. Her breathing got in the way, made looking at her impossible. Her thrashing and pleading to ‘please let her go’ was just an insistent ringing in my ear. Now that she was still could I see.

I didn’t realize how long I had been admiring her until I heard the faint dripping hit the floor. I looked upon my masterpiece to only be rushed over with a sense of dread. It was ruined! The same red paint was dripping down the canvas, covering the beauty that it once was. I sighed, knowing I would not be able to fix it, and the magic from my muse was long gone. Instead of the beautiful stranger I saw before I saw something dull and lifeless. I took the portrait and threw it in the corner with the others, grabbed my coat, and left.

“I think I just need a good cup of coffee to help this rut, but where am I going to find another model…”

“Oh you need a model huh, are you an artist?” The bubbly response to a statement I didn’t know I said out loud drug me from my thoughts. It was a woman, soft chocolate hair and eyes a dark ember. She smiled at me and the spark of creation flew into my heart.

Yes she could work.

I just hope she doesn’t fight as much as the last.