It's like being ripped from a blank canvas into a Matisse. Each moment with you painting a brighter, bolder stroke than the next. Every color moving something deeper inside me. Its composition, staggering.
It's always been beautiful and messy and vaguely familiar, but this time its painting me from the inside out in ways I cannot hide. I'm slinging magenta from my fingertips.
In the end though I'm not sure if what we have created is a masterpiece or a reprint of the same original.
And that thought is not a happy one for a starving artist like me.
June 2018
5 years ago
1 comments:
I am still not sure what to leave for a comment on this one.
Though I've read it a number of times.
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