Page 43 - Musings 2020

Red

Avanti Sontakke 2017B4AB0613P

She left
No note
No piece of paper
To stare him in the face
To tell him what pushed her over
The tipping point
That she sat perched on
Every hour of every day
As he played with her face
His canvas
A display of art
Filled with colour
A swirling mosaic greeted her
In the mirror
After he was done
The colours swished and mixed
Everyday presenting stories
Different but yet the same

No colour gave him as much joy as red
Red of the sunset
Red of the rose
Red of her face when he used to wink at her
Red that bled between her legs
It was very much like the red
That he now painted
On her cheeks
Which he once caressed
On her temple
Which he once kissed
On her chin
Which he once held with a delicate hand

She used to tell people
That he wasn’t a painter at heart
He was a good man
Just mislead
That his canvas was covered
Only in mistakes

But she could not find her voice
On the night that he set out
To create a masterpiece
His eyes bore no mercy
How could they

43