April 11th, 2022

I’m not an artist
for I have no talent,
but it’s the language I use
to communicate with the night.

Mixing shades and colors
is the definition of cruelty
when they don’t match my mood.

Taking the first stroke is the hardest;
a tiny tremble can change my perspective.

You come at night,
with the dancing shadows
and the fraying memories.

The curtains in my room bleed the paint,
when any of my creations reminisce you.

My soul rejects your existence
so I let her take control
of disposing you.

I’m not an artist, but you taught me art.

for it took me a while to realize
that colors are more beautiful
when mixed in a dimmer ambience,

so that when the sun rises
an entire new language is created
within the canvas.