Aquamarine and teal dropped heavy from the overwhelming gray above. Quickly the colors fell to the muddy streets, exploding into thousands of crystalline shards, soaring through the December air. Only to meet again on the frozen asphalt, melting into a silvery mass of wet acrylic. And as I paint this I think "you make me think of rain", but I'm really smiling at your picture on the desk. In my mind, shades and shapes drop onto the blank white canvas, covering over the emptiness there, making it something beautiful. An expression of emotion. Things utterly indescribable with the use of simple words. This canvas is my medium. This white slate with streaks of teal and aquamarine will show you, somehow, I think, what it is exactly you mean. In these colors I see pieces of you and bits of myself, sailing down from the drab sky. Our points of origin do not matter, and we are not bland as they are. We are color, you and I. And we will come together at the bottom, after this heady descent through the twilight. Together we will lay against the dark, cold, stone and capture the stray beams from the street light above. We will be luminious, radiant. I am not afraid, as my brush slowly but steadily claims more of the canvas, of my giving and your taking. Because I know I will be given as much, if not more of you to compensate for my lost bits. We will interchange pieces, and meld, and melt into something that is fresh and new. We will be hard to take apart. What belongs to whom will have been confused with the passage of time. And somewhere, in the back of my mind, that nagging fear arises. Doubts, insecurity, all these green emotions in my heart. There is no green on my canvas tonight. There are shades of gray, black, white, and blue. Somber, described by some as cold. But I see you in them. I see you vividly in my imaginary rain.
But I shake myself, clear my head without losing the concept of my art. We are not rain. We will not meld in this way and I do not want us too. I adore each piece of you too much to detract from it in the slightest, even if I were to pull it into myself. I meld my flesh with yours as much I can still; a lame attempt to physically recreate this closeness. That amazing bond in what I suppose to be my heart. I wonder, as I lovingly breathe life into this canvas, if you will understand. These splashes of aquamarine, the gentle touch of teal, will they stir in you the things they do for me? Do I make you think of rain? It's always fascinated me. Even as a child, I would lay awake among my unfinished dreams and listen to that soft sound. I'd stare out my bedroom window and view each translucent drop as it fell from the heaven I still believed in, during those precious hours of early morning. You see, I can think of nothing more beautiful than the falling rain.