Black

She picked up her phone,

In the hope it beeped due to his message,

But boy was she disappointed,

When it wasn’t him,

She craved that familiar voice,

Wondered will she ever hear it again,

Sighing, she continued her painting,

The brush flowing over the canvas,

Like wind blows,

Beautiful shapes formed,

A trail of tear drop,

Mixed the colors till the bottom,

She wiped it away,

Paint on her rosy cheeks,

The painting was almost ready,

When she finished,

Another teardrop, attracted by gravity,

Rolled down her cheeks,

She smiled one last time,

Before she collapsed,

Giving into her breathless sobs,

Her knees hurt,

But not more than her heart did,

Her eyes burned,

But not more than her insides felt,

The floor was covered with colors,

Red, just like her eyes,

White, just like her pale skin,

And at last black,

Just like what she saw, when he went away.

– Prajakta Dengale

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8 comments

  1. Suraj · January 3, 2016

    Beauty..

    Liked by 1 person

    • goldheartedbluegirl · January 3, 2016

      Thanks!

      Like

  2. mjjustin1 · January 3, 2016

    Very well composed…..

    Liked by 1 person

    • goldheartedbluegirl · January 3, 2016

      Thank you!

      Like

  3. aamir bombaywala · January 3, 2016

    Bhari!!!

    Liked by 1 person

    • goldheartedbluegirl · January 3, 2016

      Thank you!!!!!

      Like

  4. Lakshmi · January 3, 2016

    Very well written girl!!
    Would like to read it again and again

    Liked by 1 person

    • goldheartedbluegirl · January 3, 2016

      Thanks a lot Lakshmi!! I’m more than glad you liked it!

      Like

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