Brushstrokes Through The Windows || DRAFT
- LETTURE 189
- Voti 15
- Parti 6
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]
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