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


Mapped together


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