art

I picked up my paintbrush again.

After a long time.

I  burned bits of paper and closed my eyes and breathed in the ash-like air.
I closed my eyes and waited for the flames to die into embers.

I glittered and glued.

I felt those emotions I haven't felt in such a long time. Those feelings that aren't actually feelings, but rather the existence of an unseen substance that holds the heart in its strong beating form. The substance that allows us to hear, feel, and see the definition of the beat of the heart.

It was like fresh air.

So excited for my latest art project.

Maybe time away does make the heart grow fonder, because you forget all the negatives... all the reasons why; one focuses on why not.

Is it out of desperation or out of love?

Words To You.

I don't want to waste my life regretting what I have not said.

I don't want to regret saying what I have not said.

So I sit back.

Pondering the objections and projections of an unlikely love.

A question.

An exclamation.