It's the way the music seems to flow through her as each brushstroke has a different meaning. The beauty her emotions make each art piece.
Everytime I watch her, she seems more down, she seems as if though her world is slowly collapsing. I want to reach out to her and hold her close, tell her everything will be alright. But, I just watch as the tears flow down her face as she uses her paintbrush to express her feelings.
Each painting has different colors, but the same emotion is used to paint all of them now. Blues, blacks, greens, every dark color you could possibly think of is going on this big canvas. One of the biggest ones, she moves from one side to the other, painting one of her favorite memories.
The day she was given a bouquet of roses, her bright smile, the beautiful sunset behind her. The way you could just see how happy she was. It was her birthday that day, I remember it well. I was there, I gave her those flowers. I told her she looked so beautiful.
Now all I can do is watch from the windows of her studio. Cut off.
Cut off from her forever, if only we had more time. If only, I had picked up the phone before the crash. If only, I had told her how much I loved her before I left that morning.
But now, I'm a ghost. In the past, in the present, and forever.
"I'm sorry love." I watched my reflection in her studio window slowly fade away, leaving her behind once again.
