SHE IS REUM, born with wealth and a cherubic face. like van gogh's paintbrush, she goes around and around 'til the dizziness makes her splatter her colors all about. like you guessed people abhorred it. the malevolent envy that's encrusted in their inky hearts metamorphoses into greed, they wanted to nauseate and spill their colors everywhere too.
oh, but they can never be like reum. because their eyes scream dolor and they yearn for their desires! they are ever so desperate, and are encased in the chest of aureate sins.
they are icarus flying to the sun. you know, that moon-bruised aureate ball of light they desire to hug, when it shouts it's poison infused profanities from afar.
and like ice cream, they melt and show their true colors of sickly sweet and sticky ichor.
they fly to hell.
reum is thrown into the moon, where the monochrome sand marks her earthy elbows, and she's hugged by the loneliness it contains. but at the same time, she's just gazing at a monochrome ball glower against her because it envies her color too.
"reum, what're you doing?" her dad opens the door in the room of winds that should dance outside. "well, i'm watching the moon, isn't it pretty?"
he goes forward to catch a glimpse of the moon, "it seems brighter today," he says. "it does!" reum smiles, oh that pretty smile of which people covet.
"i'll have to go, you should sleep at this time."
"when will you finish him? the painting?"
"i already have, he'll be hanged on the walls, he's as pretty as gemstones."
"i can't wait to see him! what would his name be?"
"i would never dare to do so, the clusters of stars in his eyes that just seem to be there are far too pretty for a mere name."
"perhaps you are right, your paintings are always beautiful."
"but he's different,.." her dad says, his eyes wandering in different darkened corners that appear void-like.
"if you say so." a sudden pause happens, filling in the sound with silence and leaving it with a smile. the door shuts the outside world of terrors and beauty, or rather a terribly beautiful outside world. just like colors on a canvas.
-
she scrutinizes the painting on an orange morning. it's so alive! his eyes encrusted with stars, pierce through her vision and abruptly all she could discern was a galaxy of melancholy. the planets, when the tears shower over their perplexingly round bodies detonate on her skin, goosebumps. and she swears, she swears! that those lips are bound to sing notes that touch and squeeze one's heart for it to finally feel. she swears that this man breathes in this world, and that their eyes indirectly met while they gazed at the same moon last night.
the winds stole her breath, and she thinks that they gave it to her dad's beloved canvas.
