Completed. Poetry. Short story.
Amber was one of the best fine artists in town. Blessed with intelligence, she knew how to make the best use of her talent. Everybody loved her, her and her paintings.
When she was so perfect with her work, praises di...
None of your talent is really in your spirit, You go spiralling in a whirl of dispirit; Now, you want to go ahead and apologise, But can you really verbalise?
I eventually left everything behind; Forgetting equals redemption, I did find; But what if it all came back to me? Well, I couldn't always be a nobody;
I eventually left everyone behind, They didn't seem to mind, And as numbly I abandoned brushes and hues, They gave up on me sans any clues.
:::
We bathe in dust while in the attic, While being unknowingly ecstatic; But then I unwrap those hateful pieces, Surprisingly, they smoothen old creases;
My feelings were evident in those strokes I stiffen as a sad aura it evokes, But Scarlet still gives me a small smile And becomes even more versatile;
I don't think we'll ever be best friends But I'm happy our understanding ascends; I put away the portraits when I see paints and brushes, And our exhilaration rushes.
•×•
HAPPY BIRTHDAY LIZZZAMAY!!!!!!!!!!!!!! GO PARTY YOUR GUTS OUT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
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