A place where paintings are drawn through words.
But the colours are smeared by the rain of emotions.
Where proses are made poetic.
Cover image: Google Images
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In love, the little things don't matter. I trust you. I love you. I have faith in you. So these little pebbles along the way don't matter, right? I shouldn't show these tiny wounds to you. They don't matter. They will probably fade away with time anyway. Ah! The knife stabbed me at an old wound, sliced it open as I sob at the stinging sensation erupted through my scarlet wrist. But it's okay, this little hurt don't matter because I know we can make it through.
Or..
What if it's the other way round? What if....only the little things matter? What if these little things are the reason people break apart? What if these wounds spread throughout my body, tormenting my soul everyday? What if one day, these little things are the ones that drift us away?
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