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Author on Reedsy Prompts since Apr, 2021
Submitted to Contest #225
My red paints mimic blood on the wooden floor. It finds its way near the fallen paint brushes that lay still next to the empty easel, the canvas now feet away from it.Looking at the self portrait makes me ashamed in an empty room and I no longer feel worthy of my spilled and wasted turquoise, copper red, or midnight blue.A quiet room filled with chaos is all Iβm left with and perhaps itβs the fumes of the paints getting to me but I canβt fall down and cry so instead I drop down to my knees with a thud and burst out into laughter instead.Two ...
βI write much better in the nonconfines of the early morning than I do the clutter of the day.β
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