Day 2

Have I ever mentioned what an inspiration you are to my art? I see you and I see colours. The first time we met, at the beach. You were with your ex-boyfriend and wore that breath-taking maroon swimsuit. How they hugged your curves and how they contrasted the gorgeous raven hair that you combed back with your hands. I saw yellow, sunny yellow.  That day I painted sunflowers for you.

Then when I met you at the bowling alley, you were crying. You had just broken up. I held out my handkerchief and you hesitatingly took it from me. You soiled it and apologized, still teary eyed. I laughed and later we ate chocolate ice cream. You smiled, a whole smile, an honest smile, before saying goodbye. I saw baby pink. Soft, precious and delicate, that day I painted a bed for two for us.

We next met at a library. The scent of books and the mysterious between pages drew us together. Then at a bookstore, then to a park where we wanted to read, then later at the take away shop because we got caught in the rain and needed to warm up. I saw the beauty in grey, the peaceful white that had our fate intertwined and the black when you said goodnight. That night I painted a love story, a book for us.

6 months later, I remember your face when I gave you the ring. That pleasant scream of surprise, the happy tears and those kisses that had me tasting heaven. You and I, we’re just perfect. I saw blue. That night, when you fell asleep on our bed, with the ring around your finger, I painted a clear sky for us.

You were beautiful, so beautiful, with my ring around your finger.  It was like the ring was made for you. I’m glad it fits, because I nearly went insane looking for it. The ring I gave you had to be perfect, just how you are to me. I saw the perfect shade of nude. Honest and bare. That night, I painted one heart for us.

Oh the gown you designed and got made. Oh how I wish I could see you in it again. You looked radiant, in that white and cream lace. I know you had me promise not to see it, but I just had too. God knows how fast my heart would have raced if I saw you dressed in that for the first time. I thank your best friend for sending me the picture.

Ah, that picture.
I wonder how much you were trying to hide, along with the dress.
A coloured photograph.
But all I saw was black.

How hard you must have tried to hide the fact that you were kissing your ex in the dress you were going to marry me in. I couldn’t paint that night except for thunderstorms and graveyards. I painted myself. Was I dying? I thought I was.

But today, today I breathe again. You came to me and told me how you couldn’t marry me. You were honest and I thank you for that. You love him and it was true love, you said. I finally saw red; Red for the passion that flowed in me and scarlet for your behaviour.

Today, I painted you.
I framed you.
I put you on my wall.

The blood does work against your white gown and raven hair.
Your face however is too cold and too pale.

I wish I could have painted you,
Living beings are so difficult.
Being dead brings out none of the colours.

Tonight, with all my love
Tonight I painted for myself.


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