Her hair branched out like tree roots, but shine like crimson leaves of autumn bloom. The last thing I saw, I noticed her eyes. Her eyes glow cold but bright— Her dark sea blue eyes could stare out from the endless ocean miles within.
Her skin, covered in scars. The Crooked Man cut through her beautiful skin.
The last thing I heard. Her voice— A sound of nature’s broken beauty. An echo haunting— almost of a violin screaming for peace. Her heart’s stolen by the shadows, lurking inside her cold, dark Sea Blue Eyes
I was listening to ocean eyes by Billie Eilish while I was writing.
frozen still in silver secretion forever perceived in a million concepts; a story engrained, and it goes...
art is interpretive and doesnt have a concrete purpose it is up to the viewer to interpret the story behind all things regardless of the artists intent
I’ve got this massive curry leaves tree in my garden. It’s my unofficial therapist..... hehe Yep, I share my problems with it—big, small, and downright embarrassing... But I make sure no one’s watching. I don’t want the neighbors thinking I’ve gone nuts!! heheheh~~