Unpainted Masterpiece

My favorite color wasn’t painted on the canvass. There were missing strokes and broken lines. Yet, the artist within me lies unseen and covered for the masterpiece I am about to make is still unfinished.


There were sudden changes of hues and styles. There were traces of pretensions and lies. Yet, the artist within me continues dreaming, dreaming until its yearning becomes heard and seen.


I sometimes play the game of love, dealt the cards, lost and won. But never did I master its twists and flow that’s why I ended up keeping this sorrow on my own.


While there is this painting that I’ve always dreamt to paint. My subjects and the concept are already completely made. But this masterpiece, I can no more paint for its picture in my mind has already faded.


It was a picture of perfection that will never grow old with time. It was a sudden brightness of color that it even made me blind. The vulnerability and innocence found in its eyes had made me so drawn into it but it has already turned late when I finally realized.


It has a faded stroke of a brush from the time I decided to finally start doing it. But the passion was too weak to ponder upon; the passion was like a dying star from afar. It was because I was busy staring at my stagnant twinkle star. I was too engrossed dreaming of something I know was million light-years far.


I started doing the sketch but I ended up hating myself for I know reality has gone away, time has passed so fast that its brightness can no more stay. I may start sketching again and rebuilding the fire, but I know the colors and the strokes can never look any way the same. The painting has grown old and must have to change.


However, the vulnerability in its eyes remained hidden that only I can feel the pain beneath the bright colors of love. Its innocence had gone wild early before it learned the meaning of life. It was never mine to paint but it had made me feel as if it is mine and mine only, but only if I’d took time looking at it and appreciating its brightness and shine; but only if I weren’t so afraid of its dark front, its mysteries and its cold façade, if only I believe the brightness hiding inside it just waiting for me to give at least a glimpse for it to light the fire, for it to shine so bright.


Its perfection was way too impossible for me that I found it dangerous and daring. But its perfection dragged me to infinity that I know I can never find again.


I can still vividly recall how its colors remained undaunted despite the dark shades, how it kept hiding beneath the covers of its deceiving easy laughter, how it kept me silently falling into whatever it shows. It was a masterpiece I always wanted to start doing; it was a masterpiece I never wanted to end. And maybe, I was too afraid to accept the fact that it will soon end, if not soon, I know it will still come to an end.


Somehow, the rays of its brightness can still reach me, which gives me the li’l hope that maybe, just maybe, it still wants to guide me. But I cannot continue living in this fantasy. Reality comes rushing to wake me up with the bitter truth that my masterpiece doesn’t belong to me. Pain strikes whenever realization hits me, whenever the idea comes knocking that that masterpiece could’ve been mine. The painting could’ve been given color by me.


Maybe, I will just have to stay staring at my old canvas, reminisce and feel its emptiness along with every speck of dust. Though nothing had ever started and nothing was painted on it except for the single stroke of the brush, the bitterness shouts with every glimpse from it. The painting will stay blank but it will forever hold everything, everything that I did not let to be seen, everything that belongs to my dreams.


Years will pass; the colors and the shades will fade away. And as this story goes unremembered, these all will remain untold, the characters will stay unknown and the painting will still be undone.


Unless the brightness of my favorite colors comes back to lighten up the frightening shades on the canvas, I will forever hide and keep what was implicitly unleashed above and continuously wonder how can this end just like an unpainted masterpiece of love…

A recycled entry. I made it a year ago or two. But this stays as my fave article of all time. I have long wanted the reason behind this article to read this. Sadly, he never did. And I bet, he never will. This will always be one of my biggest regrets in life. Not saying what I feel the moment I felt it, right at that moment when you feel the same. I miss you and I always will...