COLORS.

cinq

flowers

those flowers on your painting,

looks so beautiful.

every little detail,

you will notice.

every line, no matter how long,

you drew them perfectly.

every pigments of color,

blended flawlessly together.

it looked so real.

in awe, i watched you.

how your veiny hands held the wooden paint brush,

how the bristles glided across it,

in a smooth, fluid motion,

staining the ivory canvas in pretty colors.

it's sunflowers,

the pretty flowers on your painting.

it's not one of my favorites,

but you told me i remind you of them.

for once, i saw your smile

when i asked why in bewilderment.

you continued to do the artwork,

but you couldn't handle the chuckle

that elicit from your mouth due to my reaction.

but yoongi,

you were more of a sunflower than me.

in my eyes, you glow.

beaming in pure happiness,

shining through me,

even though your light dulls at night.

scooting over, i asked

"if i'm a sunflower,

what flower are you then, yoongi?"

the grin on your lips was replaced

with the familiar bitter smile i always see.

my chocolate eyes followed where your gaze dropped,

seeing another painting on the other side

of this dingy room.

another painting, it was.

but my smile fell,

realizing there wasn't any bright hues,

but a monotonous black and white.

you were like a withering flower,

petals slowly falling apart,

every stem drooped down low,

and a flower who already lost it's glimmer.