featured by @coffeecommunity
featured by @storiesundiscovered
winner of league of litterateurs '23
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we're all made of stars.
but what happens when one of the stars, dies?
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when we're born, we're just a child full...
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There was a time when vibrant colours Would flow from her fingertips, Endlessly on the blank canvas Creating a picture so vivid.
There would be art all around her Colours bursting as she traversed. Unmarked territories, uncharted waters But never leave a blank canvas.
One day changed it all The door shut behind her. Days and months and years went by, Yet no sign of her colours.
Time had passed, quite an ample When she pushed through the door Into a nostalgic moor, A floor of dust, under her sandals.
Yet her fingers reached for The delicate brushes, again. Painting the canvas, In brilliant hues of red.
Strokes after strokes, She thought it'd fill the void Burned into her mind, in her heart She became terrified.
A step back, so she could perceive The blank canvases, with ideas concealed. But the colours came back, never again All washed away, in the pouring rain.
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an artist's biggest fear, you ask? a blank canvas.
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