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The Paint Brushes, Bewitching Me To Touch Them.

My Hands, Yearning To Hold Them Once Again.

My Poor Heart, Still Drowning In The Pool Of Misery.

These Beautiful Colors, I Longed To Touch Them.

I Love Painting, I Really Do.

But My Hands Trembled At The Thought Of You.

Slowly I Opened The Box I Have Been Dreading To Open.

The Colors, The Brushes, The Palettes, They’re Beautiful.

I Touched Them As A Glitch Of
Soreness And Bitterness Overwashed Me.
Sweats Forming In My Forehead.
Bitter.
Bitter.
Bitter.
Was All I Could Think Of Before I Put My Tools Away
In The Same Box Where They’ve Been Hibernating
For The Past Two Years.

-Arikay’s Little Infinity