I once read something about people being art, and how sometimes some art won’t be hung on the wall forever.
You were a masterpiece that made my life something beautiful, something grand. I walked in a Van Gogh painting when you were introduced into my life. It was beautiful, breathtaking. It made me feel something, like art is supposed to.
The Starry Night has been taken from my walls almost like it had never been there before – but I still remember how it looked perfect it looked in my sight. I still remember how it made me feel and I remember how it felt when I ran my fingers over it like braille.
The walls may be bare again and I know something’s missing, but instead of looking for the broken paintings, I’ll be looking for something different.
Something to stay.