I prepared new brushes to draw and paint
all the pain and bruises you’ve given me.

Yes, new brushes and gouaches for the fresh wounds
and heartaches that I would conceal in the coming days…

I’ll paint the bleeding sky for that chaos I chose not to end.
I’ll paint those nameless people who saw us together that night, wait, did they envied what they just witnessed?

I don’t quite know, but infatuation can go beyond the sleepless nights,
and in a fraction of a second can turn pain into trepidation and longing.

I’ll give you an exact picture of the hues of gray and black in the stories of ours
which we chose to finally put into an end.

It's a bittersweet feeling as the illusion seeps through.
Red runs, dribbles, streaks;
travels into the distance.
Crimson molds and darkens the stem,
corrupts the root of all that is numb.
The river flows between the northern mountains,
one catastrophy laid to rest after another.
Water dilutes the strength of pain.
also washes it away.
Another layer, dose me up
The illusion helps to breathe it out.
Black drops of intensity,
the final touch
maybe this will get the pain to stop...
Gaze at its beauty,
wash it away,
start all over; it's the only way.
Dip the pallette just once more,
Down the leg,
exile the pain.
It's all i'm asking for..

AND WHEN YOU'RE COVERED BY RIDDLES OF WHAT TO FEEL

IN THE WAY HE DANCES HIS WORDS, YOU QUESTIONED WHAT IS REAL

YOU BECOME A POET TRYING TO RHYME THE LINE YOU'LL SAY

AND HE AS PAINTER WHO PAINTED YOU A RAINBOW WITH THE SHADES OF GRAY