❝The Beautiful are just virtuous petals yearning to be ruin as the Damned are just shriveled petals desiring to be whole once more. ❞
In which I give you a glimpse of 10 lives who either experience love, loss, and death.
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Extended synopsis...
Please, listen to the song above. Daniel Caesar- Violet
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ROMEÉ KILLIAN. I LOVE THE way the her name melts on the tip of my tongue. My thoughts venture far but somehow it always comes back to her. How her chestnut complexion gleams in the sunlight as the autumn winds gush through her ebony hair, giving it so much luster, her luscious lips leaked enlightening words that I play back in my mind during the dawn hours. When she is in my presence, all I see is her and only her.
I felt like I've seen it all, her soul unknowingly spilled out in front of me. The one thing I have yet to see is her smile. I wonder if her nose would crinkle up in pleasure when she smiles. Or if she thinks of me as I do her. A scoff graced my lips while I browse my studio to make sure it's perfect for her. It's surprising how much you can get attached to one person in 168 hours.
A soft knock made it's way to my ears, shaking me out of euphoria. My eyes danced over my living area once more, checking if I've missed a spot. I ambled over to my soot-colored entryway. My fingers latched onto the doorknob, twisting it to the right as the door open there stood Romeé Killian in all her glory.
She was beautiful in the most simplistic ways.
"Hey," Though her lips didn't smile, eyes did.
"Hey."
Her eyes traveled thought out my apartment, taking in the intoxicating smell of paint. I watched her intently while she roamed around, letting her svelte fingers graze over my sculptures. She sneaked stolen glances at me causing me to chuckle a bit.
She seemed to have heard me. "What?"
"Nothing, just admiring you from afar," I said, leaning against my contour. Once again, she was concealing her emotion, her eyes stayed unswerved, irises swirling with feelings but none said.
She slowly nodded, turning her head away from me. Her gaze fell upon the sketched version of herself, laying on canvas. Dirty paintbrushes dipped in a whirl of hues on the stool in which these objects use to tell a tale, remained untouched waiting to continue the story. Romeé took swift steps towards her portrait. She tilted her head to the left, examining every detail that I have placed on it. I had only her eyes and lips to do left.
"Is this why you called me over?" Her lips parted ever so slightly.
"Yeah, it is," My eyes glanced at her lips a bit before she noticed.
She shifted from one foot to the other, her thumb pressing on the Dijon ring that wrapped around her middle finger. "Where do you want me to sit?"
