His Canvas

Posted: May 13, 2013 in Fictional stories

He sat with his back to the wall, gazing into the flame that held his attention, unwavering. Consumed by its intensity burning in its luminescence. Long shadows cast on the wall, grotesque and unflattering. Smoke curled up and with it his wispy thoughts wrapped around in an embrace. The dead and vapid air stood still just as the clock on his table frozen in time. The air redolent with her memories.
The swish of her skirt and she walked out of that door. Her smile and loving eyes were captured on every canvas. They stacked up along the walls, silent testimony to a tumultuous ardor between a painter and his muse.

His nifty brushstrokes and easy lines couldn’t keep her in the canvas of his life. As fleeting as the wonder she was, the gale that came into his life carrying with her his senses and everything else he held close…


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