Fun fact. I started writing this piece as a joke of sorts, after I marked one of the paintings I was sending to its new owner with the words ‘ART FRAME. DO NOT THROW. FRAGILE.’
I joked on my social media about the fact that the same words could be said about my heart and my love, that have been wronged one too many times. And my bestfriend, Kriti decided that it needed to be converted into a poem or something. That was beginning of this piece, and I had been pretty unwilling to share it on my blog for a while, because it’s something personal, even though it was written as a joke, but I guess good things need to be shared sometimes.
I hope you guys like reading this one! Xx
“A masterpiece rare, with all its grace and air, I keep it safe under several layers; safe for the next pair of eyes that take a fancy to all that is on the surface, and everything that lies underneath.
And I think to myself, ‘You, careless beholder,’ I think, ‘What gives you any right over my heart painted over in ink?’ I wonder, if my canvas looks the same to wandering stranger eyes, as it looks to me. Can they tell my dreams in those vivid colours, and would it mean the same to them as it does to me? They put a price on my masterpiece, but they’ll never know the depth that lies sealed behind coats of varnish.
So, I take a good look for the last time, as I send my art away, to grace another home, to make someone else’s day, I think, ‘Would they cherish it the same? Would they neglect my art to wear? But most importantly, would they handle it with care?’
I think of the masterpiece rare, all the grace and the air, of a love that blooms in my chest, consuming me whole, and the words scrawled upon my diary. Every word in cursive years for a love that will love me back like me.
And there’s no amount of bubble-wrap to break my fall, no boxes stamped with the word ‘FRAGILE’, no warning to be paid any heed. I think of the masterpiece that my love is, and I wonder how cruel it is that there’s no way to shield, no weapon I can weild to save my heart when the inevitable comes… Alas! A love like mine cannot be braved by just anyone, and it ends with me standing all alone in the wind.
So, when the time comes, would somebody share the same caution, the same amount of love that I bear? And I think to myself, ‘Could they handle my love with care?’
But what good is a masterpiece hidden away in a dusty attic? What good is a love kept buried? A world without art is just as colourless and grey as a world without love would perhaps be.
So, if I were to entrust my heart to one that caught my fancy, I’d tell them ‘This isn’t a love so ordinary, and I’d stand by you on the days your skies are grey.’ I can only hope to convey the depths in me that have been sealed off after my last heartbreak. I’d say, ‘I can paint your world in colours you never knew,’ and watch them laugh out loud in my face. Or, perhaps the Fates would be kinder and send me someone who felt the same.
And when the time comes, and I’m ready to display the canvas I poured my soul into, I can only hope it goes someplace it’ll remain cherished, remain safe. And when the time comes, I can only hope I’ll be brave enough to ask, ‘Would you cherish the art that my love is, and would you handle with care?'”
Leave a Reply