it was the artist that romanticised the blue at the tip of her thin paint brush. she brushed it onto parched canvas and drew long faces that screamed with silent pain. her blood had originally been a fiery passion of red but must have lost it's colour, gone cold after bleeding out. for it was now cerulean and deep and thick with sorrow. a perfect colourant to depict her life. blue against white.
she finally lifted the brush from her piece of heart and stepped back to look at it. and tears would form in her eyes. salty tears, like the ones from the ocean, that no one liked to drink. leaking out from the corners of her eyes as a passing thought;
ah, so this is why they call it painting.
YOU ARE READING
nostrum
Poetry‣ nostrum noun { a medicine prepared by an unqualified person, especially one that is not considered effective } - = ≡ ___________ [ previously published as " pills and alcohol " ] ◂
