He left the pastel morning of
the old town behind in a blur.
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He was moving to a new city to
drench it in the hues
of his aching body.
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Taking a camera along;
he captured every piece
of the city made up of restless
souls.
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He craved her cherry lips
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but, he painted his blues away and printed all his heartache on
glossy papers and called them
art.
YOU ARE READING
Mood Board
Poetry❝Pictures that bleed more words than your lips would ever say.❞ (#27 in poetry on 09/08/2016) [© Quotes are mine; the pictures aren't.]
