Art is amazing, art is beautiful, never perfect yet imperfectly perfect so was love. The art on the wall was ever so beyond his understanding. But what real art was he knew when he saw her!
She was like scrambled colors on the textured canvas, lively as nature. He had been a dull grey canvas with scratched straight boundaries, bold and solid, until he was stained with her color. She overran all the boundaries he had put around himself. Boundaries of name, family, bloodline, discipline, formality, and what not!
She on the contrary was a splash here and a spray there, A droplet here and a wave there. Made up of colors he never knew existed. Her laughter like the sunny yellow, her smile like the pinkish hue on white roses, her words blue like the cheerful jumping waves. Her heart a shining golden!
She filled the canvas-him; in the most peculiar way. Staining a few edges, letting her color over run his boundary, as it pleased. Her color slapped him at places, kissed him at others.
She blurred his doubts with her grey and camouflaged his faults with her brightest colors.
She smudged him all over with her nothingness- completing him more than ever.
He found himself beautiful in her art. He found himself in her art and lost his heart. For he was everything she made him. The flowing blues and shining greens, the glowing hues and fading violets, she was all he had dreamed of in his delightful dreams!
Today as she lay on the painted floor colored in the red of his love, burning in a golden fire and shining in the diamond colored light he realised how much bliss this art had filled him with, making him beautiful than he could ever be.
She was the art and he was the canvas.
She filled him with what couldn't be described, could only be felt.
He saw his hidden self in her that he was never.
She was real art ,
That wasn't to be seen, but that was to be felt!
P.S
Exam time writing urges!
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