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.