You know that there is this little artist inside of me that pops up every now and then. That ‘tiny little’ artist wants to paint you. This little monster of an artist does not even know how to, but all it wants from the core of it’s heart is to paint ‘you’.
It wants to take every shade of blue and play with it, to mix and match, and spill and brush, to shade it with my own hands; until the canvas looks like you, too beautiful and blue, too heavenly to be true.
I told you once that it is you that I want to paint; no ifs, buts and whys were used; you just said, ‘paint me blue’.
I never thought that I’d agree to you, blue wasn’t really on my list before to be true. Here I am now, admitting to you that there is no other colour better than blue.
You are the anger and the red,
Sometimes, you are this hot headed big mess;
You are also the pleasant warmth of sunshine
And the scorching heat of summer;
So, all I know that for sure is true,
You could really use some blue.
All these things that trouble you,
And fill you up with rage;
These little demons of vermilion that surround you ,
I would gladly wipe them off of you,
And paint you a very calm blue.
The blue that still is a storm inside,
Nothing like the fire that burns a little every second it ignites;
The blue that is strong enough to cut the mountains, yet calm enough to soothe all of your senses;
The blue of the never-ending skies where you would soar up high,
And of the deep oceans where the heart goes to take a sigh,
From the blue of me to the blue of you ,
I’d paint you every shade of blue.
Someday I surely would paint you, and you know that I’d paint you blue.
That day I want you to know that every possible distance between us has been travelled; the journey from you, and me to us is now complete.
I would know that for sure because we would be so entangled into each other that even when I’d bleed on the canvas, I’d bleed of you. Every single time, that I hold the brush, I would bleed nothing else but a beautiful blue and with that I would ‘paint you blue’.