Painting Black: the inevitable circle

the inevitable circle

She bares her soul. Another succumbs to weariness. The other admits defeat. I miss these talks... i miss the honesty. The laughs. The tears. The stories of triumphs, of defeat. The story of our lives. It doesn't matter if we dish out the garbage we hide from other people. Or the lucid fantasies we try so hard to suppress in our waking hours. It doesn't matter how trivial the issues are, or how life-changing they can be. We take comfort in the fact that we are not being judged. We are simply heard. Our words are taken as they are...raw and unpretentious. We are heard. And in the tacit silence of the moment, we knew we belong. It's amazing how far we've come.

I am blissful. And i miss both your presence more.


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Painting Black

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