Her pink cheeks matched well with the sky blue robe that mantled her skin. With her deep earthly brown eyes, she looked at his painting. The strokes and shades and the curves and the splashes meddled and seduced her thought. The surroundings were an ocean of blur and in serenity she was drowning herself. The fitting green shirt he wore over his torso was as envious as she. The warmth of yellow sunlight fell upon their pillows - which soaked the beauty of the morning. Her rosy white hair fell upon her shoulders like the fizzling flakes of waterfall in the midst of a valley. Her golden laugh accompanied with her silver smile resonated in the colloidal grey room. She laughed at his idiocies - the way he stood there, the artist, had now become her art. His emptiness filled with the colourless cotton and sewn back up with her lavender thread. All he could see was black, while she saw the colours, as the last glass of wine he ever had seeped in through her red lips.
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