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Jan 2019
Paint, dribbling into water - each drop, like ink, bleeding into a haze as a home for the thick bristles of a brush.

A canvas, tones of rosy pinks and deep reds - blending like strawberries and cream. Love.

Fingers, chipped paint under its nails - palms splotched.
I started writing and this came out. I don't even paint.
Written by
J
  264
   Eli
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