(n.) the color of the sky while the sun is setting
There are white canvases all over the place. The enticing smell of the acrylic paint gets her euphoric. The easel is crafted of beautiful wood and stands tall just for her. A paintbrush's fluffy bristle. The brightly colored paint tube neatly stacked on the table. The wooden floor is smeared with rainbow hue stain; she knows it's a mess, but it's chaotically colorful to her.
Van Gogh once said, "If you hear a voice within you say 'you cannot paint, then by all means paint, and that voice will be silenced."
She lived for that. The noises in her head were too loud; she wanted to hush them through painting. She'll play with them and make them vanish. She will create a universe in which her subject can be anything.
We all clueless people trying to figure out what to do.
However, this is not the case for her. Art is what keeps her earthly body from deteriorating. The purity of it, as well as the vibrant elements. Art is what fuels her fire. She is yearning for art. This is where her life will take her: to live passionately.
She has complete control over her decisions. She gets to decide what she wants to do. And that is creating art and becoming immersed in it. This is the fuel that keeps her going.
As she stroked a fine line, the black ink kissed the canvas. She pushed her palm gently, almost as if it were a feather. She does not want to ruin her creation.
Her paintings were mostly abstracts, but his face may be found all over her room.
The old grandfather clock sings. It's already five o'clock in the afternoon. She was engrossed in her reveries and didn't notice the passing of time. She stared in the mirror; she has paint on her face, arms, and palm, in addition to her face! She appeared to be puking rainbows. She needs to take a shower!
But she has a sinking feeling. She's always concerned about something. Her anxiety is killing her. She wrinkled her nose. Please, not right now.
She heard a noise as she swirled around in delight. It's a scream, not a scream! Her mother's anguish. She doesn't want to admit it, but its right in front of her. She dashed down the stairs, her mother screaming and bowing and holding her father's knees, asking her not to leave them. Her father, on the other hand, holds firm in his determination to leave their home and be with his mistress. Her father's harsh comments have lingered in her mind. His gentle eyes have vanished. Her mother yelled that she was going to commit suicide, but her father merely laughed like a demon, even encouraging her mother to do it. What a jerk!
With shaking feet and clouded vision, I peered into the entryway. She noticed her father getting ready to leave, two hand-carry bags on each side of him. For the last time, her father smiled at her. He used to be her hero without a cape. What happened now? When he shut the door, her father had vanished in the late afternoon light.
You've become everything you said you'd never be.
She tries to scream her father's name, but it only comes out as a whisper. Her mother's gaze was fixated on the door. She'll be the one who strengthens them both now that one of them is weak. This is not the time to be weak.
This is a broken family. She was like a stray lamb. Everything was jumbled and disorganized.
She ran as fast as she could toward the direction she knew would soothe her feelings. She couldn't stop herself from gasping. Her lungs clenched and her chest heaved furiously. Her hands were resting on her knees. Her lips felt parched. Her face was wet from sweat and tears, which were mixing and dripping at the same moment, but the salty air was defying it. She collapsed on the sand due to tiredness.
Why am I being drawn back to the world I was trying to avoid?
You're not alone. You're not alone since your paint and canvas are waiting for you, right? You're still colorful, she assured herself.
She finally noticed the broad stretch of white sand. The magnificent red and orange sunset resembled a massive fireball. The sky appeared to be magnificent. Because of the golden brightness of the setting sun, the sea glistened with flame. The waves slammed on the coast, sweeping up and down. The palm trees swayed in time to the winds dancing. They complement each other nicely. The serenity of the field and the chirpings of the birds. She can't quit admiring it. She could live here forever.
She raised her hand with the colors in it, as if she could touch the view in front of her. She will never give up all hope.
This will come to an end soon.
For a little moment, she found solace in this place. The beautiful pink sky above her were turning purple. The chilling breeze. The clamor of the waves. The wind's whistling caresses her silky skin and gently flies her hair. She clutched her knees to her chest and reached for some fine white sand, which slipped easily between her fingertips. She flashed a grin.
Isn't it true that God is a sculptor? How did he figure out that blue had to be the color of water, or is blue the color of water? Is it science? Regardless of the explanation, she is enthralled by the beauty, peace, and hues it gives.
She bit her lower lip and reveled in the peacefulness of the surroundings. It provides her enough peace to forget about the pain for a while.
She felt numb and cold all of a sudden, so she grasped her porcelain and thin left arm and pushed her long nails firmly. The dents are visible to her. It has the appearance of a crescent moon. She let out a long sigh.
He'll be here in ten minutes.
She took out her sketchpad while she awaited his arrival. She drew a line in the paper recklessly till she forgot about the agony. This is her way of letting go of her disappointment, but everything was gloomy. It's lifeless.
As he sat next to her, the soft air blew alongside his heavy footfall. In a slouch stance, he made himself at home. He has an expensive, manly, and ferocious scent. He gave her a dark look when he realized how carelessly she was sitting, so he removed his black jacket and laid it on the sand. His V-neck white shirt stretched to fit his huge chest. He motioned her to take a seat. Her dumb heart throbbed. And the butterfly in her gut was almost making her nauseous.
When his warm hand began to caress her cheeks, she flinched. Her tears had dried up from crying, but he was still wiping them away. He washed away the paint that had been carved into her skin. When his palm brushed her face, it felt warm. Her breath came to a stand as she watched him delicately kiss the back of her palm, enthralled by the moment. The heat from his lips was instantly transferred to her skin. His touches were soft and delicate. Before glancing up at her, he licked his lower lip. His lips turned red, and his intense look was too much for her to bear, but his loving eyes were soothing her down. She can see herself reflected in his eyes.
He's truly a benevolent man. She squeezed his hand, conveying her gratitude and saying how much she missed him. He cocked his head and smirked.
He hoisted her into his arms and strode down the beach path. He understands what needs to be done. Her jumbled thoughts were washed away by the sea. They both burst out laughing. He laughed up and smiled at her as he flung his head back. This is the kind of smile that makes you feel secure. That's the kind of smile he has. His typical youthful grin. The way he blinks his eyes, chews his lips, and rakes his fingers through his hair. She was completely mesmerized.
Perhaps it means nothing to him, or perhaps it was simply a simple gesture, but it has a magical effect on her.
From where she sat, she gave him a glance. Arms at akimbo and now topless. He showcasing his ironclad chest and big guns. His worn blue jeans hung loosely about his waist. What a beautiful sight to see. Her breath became tangled instinctively. He had stubble on his strong, well-structured jaw, giving him a rugged appearance. His jaw's five o'clock shadow told her that. He has these obsidian orbs, and there's a spark of cunning in his eyes. His dark hair was disheveled and silky to the touch. His lips were curved, giving him a sly grin. His veins showed on his forearm screamed violence to her.
Despite the fact that he appeared tough and manly, she admires him.
She chuckled for a moment before remembering why she was there. It was unsurprising that those around her preferred to leave and ignore her. If they stay, she'll be much more surprised.
And he did. He's different. He stayed with her.
Their legs were touching. They stood there watching the sun set in the west. It appeared to be magnificent. His skin has been sun-kissed, and his glow is dazzling. His face was highlighted by the hue of the sunset. She was a little envious of it. He appears to be eternal. It's some of the most beautiful scenery she's ever seen.
For me, it'll just be him.
This is the right time. She wore her heart on her sleeve, ready to utter her lines but then the words failed her.
Why do things don't go always the way we want them to?
She noticed him staring at the girl with those gentle and tender eyes she admired so much. Her heart shattered as she saw him stand up and move away from her to approach the woman. The woman came to a halt in her tracks as she gracefully whirled around to face him. They looked at one other as if they were the center of the universe.
She the creator of her catastrophe. And this is one of her destruction.
The scene is just too pure. She is aware that this will happen, but she allows this emotion to consume her.
Oh, sunset, you're finally going down. Beautiful, but it must come to an end.
The cool breeze blew in and crawled into her skin. She wants to paint him. He's going to be her subject. For the last time. They appeared to be a couple in old images. She plans to paint them. And it'll be a masterpiece.
She gazed out at the vast sea. It was getting dark, and she could see stars strewn throughout the sky. Her felt body began to deteriorate. Isn't here where the sun first began to rise and set?
She let go of someone who wasn't supposed to be her. All she have left are memories of them. She know when it's time to admit defeat.
Just in one day, she saw her life faded in front of her.
