The Art Of Melancholy

If I could use depression as a paint brush, I’d paint an exquisite masterpiece

It would draw you to your knees and bring instantaneous tears to your eyes

Filling your heart with a void so deep you cannot fathom there being an end to it

The strokes of black would be flawless,

striking the white canvas with cutting precision

The contrast slitting you to the core

Splashes of grey creating a wonderland of shapes previously unknown

Shapes that remind you of all the sadness the world has ever held

Deep blues cementing the vast chaos in dark beauty

The twisted beauty that apathy sees

The thick, lustrous texture would draw you in,

coaxing you to touch it,

to be a part of it

But this masterpiece would be your ruin

It would be framed in isolation, hopelessness, loneliness, guilt, and doubt

The finished work would be breathtaking

You would be unable to stare at it for long because it is so beautifully tragic

And tragically beautiful

You would wonder where such darkness, such despair, such distorted beauty originates from

But only the painter knows the secret

It is a world only the painter inhabits

A world that can hold only one

About samlobos

I am an avid fan of creating narratives in my head about random experiences and quotes for future books I will probably not write. I harbor a 15 year old girl in my psyche and like to solve world issues when I'm half asleep. View all posts by samlobos

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