Painted
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WpMetadataNoticeLast published Sat, Nov 17, 2018
She saw the world in a blur of black, white and grey shades. But then he came along and carefully painted her world little by little until it started bursting with vibrant colors. She was painted.
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#69
painted
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I was meant to be the end of you. Or so I told myself, over and over, like a prayer repeated to dull the truth. A purpose I could clutch without trembling. A goal I had in mind since the mother figure I had was gone. But you... You were never what I had imagined. You laughed with the ease of sunlight spilling through leaves, with a lightness that made shadows stumble. Your mind-brilliant, witty, untamed-breathed warmth into places I thought only cold could dwell. Your kindness... oh, your kindness, quiet as petals falling, struck me in ways I could not name. You laughed too easily, like the world had never wronged you. You spoke like you had time to spare, like nothing was chasing you. And you were strong in ways that made no sense-quiet, unguarded, almost careless but willingly living the life you weren't supposed to. It doesn't make any sense. None of it did. But the truth was quieter than that. I just didn't want to believe you were someone I had to lose.

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