Lean fingers curled around the paintbrush
Bright blue paint dripping from her fingertips
A drop of yellow and everything she touched turned green.
She saw the patches of red dotted across the canvas, like a distant memory of an early Christmas
She wanted to swirl each stroke, swirl it with ease and let the black consume her curves
Short breathless laughter escaped her, a tiny speck of white making its way into her heart
Sweet flavours of tiny promises held captive with her daydreams.
She let her hands close over the paper, effortlessly
Facing her fears eyes open and head held high
Midnight strolls, dreamy coffees, gentle touches, and soft words blurred with neon lights and loud music became her muse, her cafe terrace at night.
-keerthana
YOU ARE READING
▪️ Lιgнтѕ Fяσм A Dαяк Mιи∂ ▪️
Poésie"If you are a dreamer come in If you are a dreamer a wisher a liar A hoper a pray-er a magic-bean-buyer If you're a pretender com sit by my fire For we have some flax golden tales to spin Come in! Come in!" ― Shel Silverstein 🔹 This is a collecti...
