Facade

"Why not?", she asked.

"I don't have an inspiration. I had you before, but not anymore", he replied.

"So what different did I do then?"

(She never got her answer)

She told herself: When they were together she didn't do anything that could have added any value to him or his life in anyway. She thought so. She's still the same from what she thinks. And now that they are no more together, she doesn't see a difference in her actions as compared to the previous times. So what made the difference? What changed?

Nothing from her side, she thought. It was him who made the difference. It was his sole perception and image of her that changed and made the difference. His perception was different then, it voluntarily changed later. He believed her to be someone then, but not anymore. Though she's still the same from her side, to him, to herself.

He thought she was his muse, but that's past now. It's all about him and she's no where. Not that she's complaining, but only wondering that was she ever significant to him as a person or was she just an image that had a purpose? An image unaware of her own significance, if any. An image that was created by a mind to be discarded one day.

Just an image, a reflection.

The answer doesn't matter now.

The Moon

And, like a dying lady lean and pale,
Who totters forth, wrapp'd in a gauzy veil,
Out of her chamber, led by the insane
And feeble wanderings of her fading brain,
The mood arose up in the murky east,
A white and shapeless mass.

Art thou pale for weariness
Of climbing heaven and gazing on the earth,
Wandering companionless
Among the stars that have a different birth,
And ever changing, like a joyless eye
That finds no object worth its constancy?

--
P. B. Shelley