Brushstroke, Complimentary

If I were to take a step back to see the bigger picture, I’d see a canvas painted in all the shades of affection. Where our words exuded interest, and actions showed the care and consideration of two children realizing they’ve found a best friend.

If I were to take a step back from our painting, I’d see the equal amount of pain and suffering it causes us, to create something so beautiful, yet have it be almost debilitating to maintain.

The leaves began to grow once more on the days we first met, yet the season’s warmth never changed to begin with. And what only changed was our perspective: to see lines drawn in unison. Lines that intersected so unapologetically with such vivid beams of color… Lines that began to fall flat as they slowly stopped crossing paths, afraid of being hurt.

If I were to take a step back, this painting of ours reminds me that this, in all of its beauty, is a testament not to one another, but to ourselves. Because despite how we now attempt to run in parallel, at the start of spring we were deep in bloom, and now, as the air turns frigid, the sun’s steady rays finds its way to hold you.

You hinted at him not to, as you’d spend more time lurking in the night— but even then, it is the sun’s light that reflects off the moon. And that is what the sun is made to do. He is made to love fiercely. He is made to live with intensity. And you know it’s asking for the impossible, so in the middle of winter, when you do walk to catch your morning Uber, and you are caught off guard by the sun’s warmth brushing your bare skin, you can’t help but appreciate it.

So once more, our paint brushes cross before we catch ourselves bleeding into each others space. Yet we still appreciate that this mural we share, in all of its suffering, is a work of art nonetheless.