Before we started, we were like individuals in separate photos. Like two colours on their own
on an artist's palette. Like two elements in their cordials.
Like two partners, ready to tango.
Soon, our photos came closer - I was smiling at you, you were smiling at me.
Our colours met on the easel.
We got blended and stirred in a beaker.
We got on the floor danced to our heart's desire.
But photos fade. Colours wash off.
Compounds break down.
Dancers get tired.
Soon, the photographer left.
The moment died.
So did the artist.
He lost the faith in his one love.
The compounds tried to last together.
But the atmosphere has so much more to it-
and soon all the impurities pull them apart.
The dancers slipped away, blinded by exhaustion.
Even though the passion and desire still beat in their hearts.
A picture speaks a thousand words; but if only I knew what are those
thousand words I wish to speak.
A world without colour is dull, the grass is greener on the other side,
and always look on the brighter side.
Everything will try to pull us apart. But it's how strong the bond
you bother to build - that makes you last.
The passion and desire to tango through life together is like the accelerator through.
And the exhaustion, the pain, the negativity of it all - pulls the brake.
We're falling.
.
.
.
.
.
Funny how a heartache pulls you down faster than gravity does.
...why can't you just give it a go...