[ C o l o r s ]
Do they complicate you, because they make you feel like t h i s?
"Why do you draw?" he asked.
This was routine between the two of them since the day she sat next to him, and they did their artwork side by side. She complimented his, and he had nothing complimenting to say about hers.
But he asked her that every single day.
And she gave the same answer, "Do I need a reason? You don't have one."
She continued her piece as he looked over her shoulder. Her medium lately was ebony, rarely with any other colors. Her fingers tended to be stained from those pastels... blue... black... and red...
"... Just wondering, I suppose," he murmured, resting his chin on her shoulder. She hated when he did that, and he knew. But he didn't understand why it turned her face crimson. "You know, I read somewhere—"
"Of course you did."
"—that artists like us use color to express emotion and who they are. I didn't understand what that meant, I don't think I do that, but... is that what you do?"
She was silent for a while, long enough for him open said book to that page start reading.
"Black represents emptiness and bad experience. Blue is quietness, serenity, truth..."
She considered his statement for a moment, continuing to shade her newest work. "... I guess that sounds like how I use color."
He continued, "Red is for passion and lust—"
"Th-That's not how I use it!"
"Hmmm..."
Another awkward silence settled between them again. Sai settled back into his thought, and she tried to focus back on her piece. The ebony haired boy reached for a nearby brush, smearing cold, wet paint across her cheek.
"I read something about 'facepainting'... That color suits you better."
The girl let out an annoyed growl, rubbing off the pale yellow acrylic off her face.
Of all the colors that you've shined, this is surely not your b e s t...
