Art

I forgot I wrote this

I don’t think in words

It’s all art

In my mind, it’s as clear as day

As clear as memories that I’ve once lived and now long for

My canvas had become a mess

A bright explosion of color on top of darkness

Layers upon layers, year in, year out and my masterpiece is still not complete

Some would call it abstract art

But you called it beauty

While others read my words and moved on to the next piece

You stayed

Admiring the work

You thought the same way I did

You showed me your art

Mine paled in comparison

Yours was true beauty

Over time, I got sick of my own works

Which made me understand why you moved on to the next exhibit

I just wish I had the ability to do the same