lopsidedown

  He dipped his paintbrush again, wondering how the devil he had gotten into this to begin with. The colors were so rich, and the canvas before him so inviting. But, looking at his means of paint on the brush in his hand, the colors were not what he had expected. Green was not envy, but hope. Blue was happiness, yellow romance. Pink was the shade of revenge and red, in all it's glory, was creativity: what he was now spreading out onto the canvas in order for the painting to take shape.  Though it had merely been a blank white stare into to realm of ingenuity and it's lack thereof, a picture had started to form. Two lovers, embracing one anoth