Let me paint you

bathed in morning light

peach tints

pockets of my heart

cradled in azure symphony

of misty waterfalls

light blue of tears

sparkling jaded shadows

audacity of rose petals

cushioned in

room full of peaches

a vivid lavender sky

flashing amethyst shades

the pomegranate euphoria

of mango mornings

pina colada skies

over teal seas

and shell flecked

white seas

vanilla frothed

footprints

leading to me

shades of

wine sunsets

all reflections

of the feelings

I have for you

love of my life.

Black on white

Letters forming words

Words forming sentences

A story woven from paint strokes

It's accents and colors

stemming from meaning

rather than sight

***

Paint the love of my life?

Here's my love of words.

- Thora

♤

I stare at the painting hanging now on the wall and step closer, admiring the details. Something about the picture freezes me in place, almost gripping me with some invisible force. The colors, the shapes… the impressive dynamic. Almost as watching a living organism and not just splashes of paint on a regular canvas.

I look at colors that I used and bend my head slightly, thinking about what I feel.

The colors that fill this canvas are green, purple and blue. I blink a couple of times, something stinging my eyes. My love is bruised, just like me. Yet despite it all,

I wouldn't have changed it, not one bit. Bruised and battered as it is, it's still beautiful and makes me sigh. This love wasn't easy, but it was mine... and the thought of never loving this way... I just wouldn't be the person that I am now. I wouldn't be me.

How would I paint you on rice paper?

Port stained lips,

fathomless blue eyes,

galaxies made of freckles

dancing across both cheeks.

I would hold you to the light

and see right through your skin,

to all of those secrets and motivations.

I would finally understand you,

If I could only paint you on rice paper.

A beautiful Home of isolation for us. Without our demons that haunt us in our hosues, no longer plagued by the tortures of this town. Vibrant red fruits hang from delicate branches. Their simple beautiful color differs from the blood of our pasts. A hill of soft grass, adorned with pebbles of happy memories together. A dark night decorated with golden stars that worn off fear. With a simple creek gliding like glass. The canvas would depict a Home of hope for the love of my life.

I stood there staring at the blank canvas. Who, or what, was the love of my life? I must've sat there for thirty minutes thinking about what I would create, how I would paint the love of my life.

I sat down and thought about all the happiest moments in my life. I thought about my first few Christmas parties with my family, playing in the rain, waking up at five a.m. on Christmas morning and ripping through presents, my first day of school, making my first friends, holding my first dog I got for my birthday, summer trips we took to Florida every summer during the last week of July. Then my mind wandered to the seasonal things that brought happiness. Like the blooming flowers in the spring that brought on runny noses and itchy eyes, seeing butterflies, the smell of rain, sitting outside to read a book. Barbecues in the summer, the long hot days spent outside, the late nights spent with friends and family, spending as much time in pools or at the beach, the smell of suncreen and bug spray. Fall is my favorite, though. The cool weather, sweaters, booties, the beautiful leaves that make the roads in my small town look like a painting, the gorgeous fall colors, campfires, preparing for Halloween and Thanksgiving. Winter. The weather finally getting cold where I live, warm clothes and hot chocolate, Christmas time, that one good snow fall that we get if we're lucky, the end of the semester, and all the time spent with friends and family.

I could think of tons and tons of happy memories. But in between all those wonderful memories that brought me love and happiness, I remembered the bad ones. The people that made me doubt myself, the things that made me hate my body, the moments I wanted to change myself and my life. The nights I cried myself to sleep. The times I cried so hard I threw up. The words and thoughts that made me feel worthless. The days I wondered if anyone loved me, if my life was worth living. The days I thought about ending it all.

That's when I realized that there wasn't one thing that could be the love of my life, and there wasn't one thing that I could paint to represent the love of my life. So I just started painting, not trying to paint one thing, using all the colors I had.

I stepped back to look at it. In one corner it reminded me of winter, with silvers, blues and golds. The next corner reminded me of spring, with bright pastel colors, almost looking like flowers. Below that, the corner had bright blues, greens, yellows, and reds. It was summer. The corner next to summer was obviously fall, with marroons, dark yellow, oranges, and browns, perfectly blended. Almost looking like fall leaves. Each season connected, the colors coming together. Like winter turning into spring, spring into summer, summer into fall, and fall into winter. They drifted into the middle looking like a beautiful cloud of colors representing all the love and happiness in my life. But if you look close enough within this rainbow of colors, you can see patches that are black or grey. Which represented all the dark moments in my life.

This was because the love of my life wasn't one thing or person. It was all the people that have helped build me up, all the people I love, the memories that I've had with them and the memories I've made alone. The love of my life is my life.

What wisps of waves of lines on a page could illustrate such an affinity?

Truly as I love the world; its cosmos and infinity. Coming to mind is matter, at hand, and deeper still are the particles orbiting one another forming when the slightest delve of consciousness is applied to them, making solids. Lovely light acting as a wave when our sight says "goodbye", loosing everything’s definitive shape as we turn a blind eye, or our cheek, and it makes my heart abound at this previously unfeasible principle; for it is all for our sake.

To kiss this canvas with such a unique amore, I would need a cysteine ceiling and much more to depict the very lift of my spirits when I break existence down to its basics. Understanding drowns me and lustfully ill take it, gulp it in, embrace it when it grasps me as a whole. Finding meaning in what matters means the world matters to me and so;

I can claim no greater love than this.

To paint it though, I wonder if my very being could be my medium and my actions and thoughts the hues and shades.

Let my will be my paint brush and each brush stroke is my every day; but you wont see it like most pictures, because it is the biggest one.

. So when I die and the paint runs dry, at least I’ll know what I’ve done.

So much beauty never to be viewed for truly

It is more than eyes could take,

My love eternal for eternity,

And my heart will never break.<3

Pristine white

Canvas holds

A glaring black

Mark at the bottom

Center

From the spot

An inch above

A wide vertical

Stripe that curves

To the right

And begins

To circle

Back

Question

Mark

I stare at my canvas

as blank as my life

open

empty

I look at the paint I was given

it is too boisterous

colorful

loud

I don't like paint

so I take a deep breath

and I pull out of my pocket

my trusty dixon ticonderoga #2 pencil

the one I use every day

and I sigh

then I turn to face the blank, empty chaos of nothingness

each open molecule of space crying to be used

and so I do

I doodle

I make people

and fairy tales come to life

my borrowed paintbrushes sit, unused

gathering dust as I work with my pencil

I fill my empty life with everything

but no colors

my doodles aren't anything special

stick people, really

the occasional well-drawn details

but they tell countless stories

and I fill them all

all the emptyness

with the lives of my belovedly carefree thoughts

and they each have a story

but no colors

and

in the center of the page

I draw my pencil

because what I really love

is the beautiful chaos that my pencil has created

in a million shades of grey.

What better paint to represent the Love of my Life. . .

than a blank

mirroring back

all untold potential

so opaque . . . so transparent

fully riddled in shadow

yet to be contemplated

and grasped from above

Canvassing My Love . . .

#PaintingChallenge

#LoveOfMyLifeOnBlankCanvas