Colours

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It doesn’t have to be skillful strokes of a paintbrush,
A blank canvas would love
even the abstract splashes of colours on it
It doesnt have to be a particular kind
to be perfect

You ask me what is art,

The stain of blood in the creases of my fingers
And spilled ink

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Mapped together

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You are the firmament draped over my existence ,
glittering in moonlight
And I am the seven seas
Contained in your heart,
Rising and falling with every breath
I reflect your azure
You,my darkness
You are heaven
And I,Earth
Who can ever map us together?
Yet we meet
Such that no eye can see
Where you end and I begin
Distance can’t stop whats meant to be