Saturday, February 5, 2011

Don't burn the things you love.

"What where you saying about daddy long-legs?" she said, with an air of such disgust, her face was green. "No, no not daddy long-legs, dandylion" David said as he walked through the room that was covered in old rugs from the middle east, "I could have been the one that won the contest, with that painting of that flower remember?" he always looked so sad whenever he thought about that painting. I remember the night his work was put on exhibition, at the college gala, he was so honored, he ushered everyone in through the door. The people loved his piece but the weed just couldn't raise peoples attention over the portrait of the archangel Michel holding control over the rain and thunder. That night after the decision to burn all those works that were sacrificed for the good of the contest, David cried. He loved that painting. He sat there watching the oils sizzle and smoke into nonexistence, then yelled "why couldn't you see my truth too?" The people all backed off from around him except for me. That night, he held me, the way I always wanted to be help by him. That night was the night I fell in love with him.

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