Are We Artists?

side by side we lay there
fingers close but not quite touching.
the silence begging to be filled,
unsatisfied by the sounds of our hearts
beating.

the ceiling above us stood tall and bare,
with light bulbs for eyes
staring down at two small, stubborn beings
so so stubborn and hesitant to
compromise.

"it's a canvas," you say.
paint your thoughts and i'll paint mine.
maybe if we're careful enough,
our mismatched thoughts might just
realign.

we used every colour on the palette
one for each emotion held under lock and key.
artists, we proudly called ourselves
we felt so content, so happy,
so free.

perhaps we were young and inexperienced
or in plain denial, I guess -
but the colours clashed, my love
and we made nothing but
a mess.

-Priya.