Another settlement has failed. Again. What started so auspiciously has ended in chaos and disillusionment. Tears that I didn’t even know I was crying fall onto the paper in front of me, forming puddles on the rough wax portrait I’ve been doodling. It’s her face I always long to replicate whenever the shadows close in. I grip the crayon tighter, as if transferring all of my sorrow into the narrow magenta Crayola. The oxygen will run out, and my lungs will burn in protestation. And still, even though death is on it’s final approach, I can’t help but draw her.
Paul Freeman
28/7/2023 06:01:06 pm
A melancholy and mysterious piece.
Sue Clayton
29/7/2023 04:28:11 am
Intriguing. Who is this she who is being drawn? Comments are closed.
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"Classic"
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