Brushstrokes Through The Windows || DRAFT

It all started on one crazy night, a night painted with emotions I never expected to feel.

From that moment, it was as if my life had been splashed with colors I couldn't recognize-- naïve strokes of confusion, curiosity, and something more.

She was the artist, and I was her canvas, unwittingly drawn into her world.

I became her entertainment, her muse, without even realizing it.

-'|

Ever since that reckless, foolish love, I became someone unrecognizable-- a version of myself painted in shades I never imagined.

But time has a way of brushing over old hues, doesn't it?

And just when I thought the picture was complete, another stroke changed everything.

This time, the artist was him.

[mysticyangiel]