The first time

She had no idea what she was creating but that didn’t matter..

It was the first time colors touched her skin that intimately staining her fingerprints till she was no longer her.

She didn’t know how a paintbrush was held but that didn’t matter either,  her soul knew the way and that was enough.

She never kept a secret so she isn’t surprised her soul stubbornly won’t say a word.

It used to speak to her of  brains she’s never encountered, brains that seemed  familiar.. Polka dot brain lobes, A Cerebellum of stripes, their pons were rainbows, their Thalmus Black N’ White..

And in a state of slow motion she saw paint sliding upon molecules of air reaching her skin like it’s where it belonged.

Time stood still like she finally knew what she’s been missing, like she was seeing for the first time, living for the first time, loving for the first time..   In love with a world of colors, a world she was diving in, running in..

Like dancing under the stars, Stars of another world, stars of endless glow.  She was immersed in a world and she never knew vision like she knew it today..

Life has always been words piled upon words in a state of stuttering but life doesn’t have to rhyme, does it?

It can be painted, dreamed or inhaled..

Regardless of the verb it just has to be.

Reviews

[Alia ZJ.]

Oh, that was thoughtful. I liked it.

xoxo

[Lamis]

Thank you! I really appreciate your comment :))))

[Maggie]

What a colorful array of words. It reads like a painting upon the page, nearly a poem, but not so. Good work.

[Lamis]

Megan, thank you for describing it that way, colors are very dear to my heart and "A painting upon the page" is leaving me with a huge grin right now!! :))))