Sweet Perfection Poem by Brooke Boulanger

Sweet perfection in art and love





There sat the old artist again, He was sitting in the window painting as always. He painted there day after day. And I watched him. My name is Eden Shaltman and I am the new owner of the Sweet perfection auction house here in town.



And dare I say that this place is a dump! I don’t know what has happened to the place. I remember a time when the sweet perfection auction house was once the most famous auction house in the state known for its beautiful art. I remember my father had brought me here as a girl. Bewildered I was by the beauty of the art. The paintings were my favourite the colors, the emotion, and the feeling in every painting. Even though I was only a girl I could feel the art and I could see the pain in every brush stroke. It was here that I had seen the strangest man ever.



He was tall and handsome with dark circles under his eyes. He had long black hair and blue eyes. Yes, I remember those eyes. For they are the eyes that I have dreamt of every night for the past 30 years. They were intense yet kind, intimidating but determined and they were Serious. But above all that they were in love... Oh how they were in love. Even I who had never truly experienced nor understood love could tell. And the target of such love and affection? Well she was less than deserving. I guess you can say she was Beautiful in the most shocking sense of the word. She had pale brown hair and a huge set of faint brown eyes accompanied by a frail little body. She was more fragile than anything else. I felt that if I stared at her too long that she might break. But she wasn't really all that beautiful. Even the most perverted of simpletons wouldn’t give her a second glance.



I remember the last time I saw them it was at a benefit banquet located at the sweet perfection auction house. That night defined magnificent the decor was extravagant and the food rich. The entire room was filled with the most important people dressed in the most beautiful and expensive garments.I remember how excited I had been when I walked into the luminescent room. My father had even bought me a new dress just for the occasion. However my excitement dropped when I saw him. He was beautiful in a suit black as night and a purple silk scarf. He was there with her... the pair of them could have only been compared to a wilting daisy slouching beside a lustrous orchid. She looked only nice, in a black and red corsetted dress and a heart shaped gold locket. A gift from him no doubt. I couldn't help but wonder what such a fine talented artist was doing wasting his love on her?



That night In his eyes I saw the most happiness that I could ever wish to see in someone. His joy was so intense that it even made me smile. So blinded he was by love that he didn't even care to notice her with the other men. Every time he looked away you could see her glance up from the floor and to another man. sending silent signals across the table. Infidelity in her eyes. I remember her eyes as well. They were filled with desire, fear, lies. But not love.



Not once did I see love in her eyes. Only deceit and betrayal. Oh yes she had that written all over her. And somehow I strongly doubted that that man was the first she sent such signals to. So foolish was the artist to actually believe she loved him. So blind he was to not see the lies in her big brown eyes...



Later on that night after my 50$ (riddiculously priced) three course meal I noticed that I had gotten some wine on my new dress so I excused myself to the restroom.This time as I walked by his table I kept my eyes fixed on the patern of the carpet for I could no longer bare to see the false happiness in his eyes.



I was suprised with myself I had only laid eyes on this man for the first time today and he's already got me wrapped around his little finger. How could I care so much for someone I have never really met? Is it even possible? I stopped that thought right then cause I already knew the answer.



As I walked down the hallway to the lavatories I passed by a storage closet. I heard noise coming from inside it. Curiosity struck me and even though I knew I shouldn't have I slightly cracked the door open only to discover the origins of the noises...It was dark in there too dark to make out any faces but dark or not it was pretty apparent what has been going on in here. I was appauled at what I had discovered I looked down to overt my eyes from the scene that was layed out in front of me as well as to respect the privacy of whoever was in there even if they didn't have the same respect for themselves. And there on the floor on top of a crumpled mess of red and black lay a perfect golden heart shaped locket I suddenly knew who the faceless figures from the closet were.



I considered running out and telling the beautiful artist. I considered telling him all about everything that I had witnessed that night. In the end I decided not to. No matter how much I would have liked to tell him that his so called lover was a fraud. It was not my place.



I went home that night and thought of what had happened that day. I thought of the artist and hoped that one day he would find out for himself what a mistake he has truly made. But most of all i thought of his eyes... those magnificent blue eyes. I know that they will forever be imprinted in my mind. Because even now as I sweep the floor of my new old auction house I remember those eyes and I wonder if I will ever see them again. Maybe one day...But for now I guess I'll have to make do with memory alone.



I'm quickly snapped out of my trance when I accidentally hit the old artists chair with the broom. 'Oh shoot I'm so sorry I didn't mean to...' The old mans gaze is mesmerizing. I had recently just bought the auction house off of him. He was a peculiar old man saying that he kept to himself would be an understatement. He never spoke to me or anyone really. He never even told me his name. I guess it would be written on the deed to the auction house but god knows where that went.



All he ever really did was paint. Always in the same spot. Always the same painting. He's been working on it since I bought Sweet perfection if not before that. The elderly man just sat there unchanged as if I had never hit him at all. 'well I guess I wasn't paying attention' I said apologizing. He simply nodded and for the first time I actually really looked at the man. Why he wasn't even that old after all. Infact he can't even be that much older than me. I don't know why he looked so old to me before. He had long black hair now silver around the edges and deep blue eyes kinda like... He caught me staring at him and decided to take his leave. He covered his painting and cleaned his brushes.



'Where have I seen him before? ' I asked myself as I walk over to the window where I had watched him paint day after day. So determined I was to discover the Identity of the mysterious old man. I decide to sneak a glance at his painting. Hesitantly I reach for the white cover that rests neatly on top of the old mans easle and I close my eyes as I pull it off. When I open my eyes I am astonished at what I had uncovered. There sit the most beautiful perfect painting of the most beautifully imperfect girl wearing a golden heartshaped locket...Then I no longer wondered the identity of the elderly man nor the beautiful artist that I had seen so long ago. Because it was right then and there I knew I had suddenly discovered both...