This one is slash. I know, I know. I'm not a fan of slash. But this was just begging to be written. Be warned: it's rather depressing. It's Cori and some other tom. I won't tell you who because that would spoil the story. Read on and don't blame me if you cry. I did!
It was the last one.
The unfinished one.
The only one you didn't get to finish.
And it would have been beautiful, had you finished it.
Oh, if only you had finished it.
It would have been amazing.
None of the others saw it, this last one, but I did.
I saw it and I loved it, even when you had only started sketching it.
Before you added any colours, I loved it.
Even in pencil and charcoal, I could tell it was going to be beautiful.
Like the mountains it depicted.
Like you.
Starry starry night, paint your palette blue and grey
Look out on a summer's day with eyes that know the darkness in my soul
Shadows on the hills, sketch the trees and the daffodils
Catch the breeze and the winter chills, in colors on the snowy linen land
I carefully remove the cloth covering it.
I couldn't bring myself to look at it until now.
It was too painful.
Now, I think I can look.
My eyes fill with tears as I gaze at it.
It's your best and now, you'll never finish it.
It will never be completed.
Now I understand what you tried to say to me
How you suffered for your sanity How you tried to set them free
They would not listen they did not know how, perhaps they'll listen now
I feel the tears spill from my eyes as I remember the way we lay on our stomachs together under the stars.
Gazing up at the sky.
That last night.
You were trying to explain where the colours in your head came from.
About how the stars looked like flowers on fire.
Burning in rich shades of gold and scarlet.
I wasn't really listening.
I was watching the starlight reflect in your ice-blue eyes.
Like a swirling cloud of soft violet haze.
Starry starry night, flaming flowers that brightly blaze
Swirling clouds in violet haze reflect in Vincent's eyes of china blue
Colors changing hue, morning fields of amber grain
Weathered faces lined in pain are soothed beneath the artist's loving hand
I remember that picture you did of Jenny.
You made her look young again, with only a brush and your paints.
Everyone thought it was beautiful.
Except me.
I had eyes only for you.
Now I understand what you tried to say to me
How you suffered for your sanity How you tried to set them free
They would not listen they did not know how, perhaps they'll listen now
Then you started going mad.
You would shut yourself in your room for days on end.
The paintings that came out of that solitude were strange.
The subject matter and the colours distorted.
Everyone else said they were weird.
I thought they were beautiful.
Or maybe, that was just you I was thinking of.
For they could not love you, but still your love was true
And when no hope was left in sight, on that starry starry night
You took your life as lovers often do,
But I could have told you, Vincent,
This world was never meant for one as beautiful as you
I cried when they told me.
How you stabbed yourself in despair.
Because you couldn't go on with it anymore.
This insanity you were sinking in.
I stayed with you that night, sobbing into your shoulder.
Unable to control my sorrow.
I remember the tears falling on your still form.
The lips I had longed to kiss, but never could.
Now, I never would.
Starry, starry night, portraits hung in empty halls
Frameless heads on nameless walls with eyes that watch the world and can't forget.
Like the stranger that you've met, the ragged man in ragged clothes
The silver thorn of bloody rose, lie crushed and broken on the virgin snow
When they took your body at dawn, I didn't go with them.
I stayed in your room.
All those strange pictures.
What were you thinking?
I wish I had noticed.
I wish I could have helped you somehow.
But it's too late for that.
Now I think I know what you tried to say to me
How you suffered for your sanity How you tried to set them free
They would not listen they're not listening still
Perhaps they never will.
They didn't understand how you felt.
Maybe I didn't understand either.
Maybe I was just too in love with you to notice.
You tried to tell them through your paintings.
You tried to show them what you were going through.
All they saw were strange pictures.
I guess they didn't think that there might have been a message.
And I can't tell them the truth.
Not now.
As I was cleaning up, I accidentally turned over your last painting.
Engraved on the back was a message.
Dear Cori,
I'm sorry for what I did.
It's too late to change that.
I know the painting looks unfinished.
But I did finish it.
It was my last work.
If you look closely at the left corner of the sky, there's a message.
I hope it helps ease the pain.
I've always loved you.
Maybe it took insanity for me to realise it.
But I know now.
The signature was blurred and unreadable.
But I didn't need to be able to read it.
I turned the picture over.
It's a night sky.
Dark navy blue, swirled with silver and gold.
I always loved your skies.
I found your message where you said it would be.
For Cori
I love you and I will so forever.
So you did finish it after all.
And maybe it took insanity for you to realise you loved me, but it took your death for me to realise that I loved you.
"I'm sorry that it took so long" I whispered.
And I could have sworn I heard you whisper back,
"It doesn't matter. I love you Cori."
And I you.
You were always mine.
Maybe you didn't realise.
Maybe I didn't either.
But you were always mine, Plato.
Always mine.
Man, that was really hard. I ended up almost in tears. That's how sad it was. Did anyone guess who it was?
A review might cheer me up though. (hint, hint).
By the way, the song is Vincent (Starry, starry night). I'm not sure who it's by, but I love the song. It's really sweet.
Anyway
yours fearlessly, faithfully and truly
The Feline Shadow Master
xx