"You know they say, Picasso-"

"I don't care."

Her voice is reserved with quiet musicality, copper-colored eyes dancing loosely on the vibrant paintings on display. My head lolls to the side as I watch her carefully- involuntarily of course. She is impossible not to see. She's the things one's eyes would seek without motive. Her teeth carelessly bare her brownish lips - a habit I suppose - as she studies one particular painting.

I blink. I suddenly find it hard to differentiate between what was art and what was my art- that is the paintings her eyes so generously roamed against their frames on the wall. The planes and shapes that combine her beautiful profile suggested itself as art by default.

"Wow"

I hear every beat in her step as she steers clear of me, and I, enthralled, decides to master her melody.

➷ ➷ ➷

and new book. and believe me when i say--- updates are gonna be slower than a sloth sooo

♛| Ⓒ 2017 All Rights Reserved | yea yea copyright and all that jazz. you steal my shit, you square up. be mature and creative and stop stealing people's work. it's childish and weird. well, you're already weird if you so happen to stumble upon this. so congrats weirdos.