Evening in the atelier soft sunlight gentles every hue You set the brush down and steady your breath In the cool room only our presence drifts back in Breathe in, breathe out—slow light stays Amber light between us, the scent of oil paints tracing the edge of my heart; our eyes touch and hold— we hold an unspoken hush close. Say nothing, let the colors speak. Lay my vermilion so thin over your indigo; Untouched feelings bleed out from our fingertips At a temperature neither red nor blue We keep on painting the very same future— To paint us—indigo & vermilion, not red, not blue, just warm We walk the midnight atelier, Starlight raining through the skylight glass. Waves of luster shimmer across the canvas; A heartbeat brushes my ear like distant thunder Midnight atelier, footsteps like soft brushes A quiet yes unfolds deep inside; With every breath, the distance loses sound. This untouched silence, we do nothing but hold it close— A quiet yes blooms inside—closer, without a sound. Lay my vermilion so thin over your indigo; Untouched feelings bleed out from our fingertips. At a temperature neither red nor blue, We keep on painting the very same future. And if the world should one day close itself away, I’ll guard the faint light living in your eyes— If the world shuts down, I’ll keep your tiny light. Seasons drift so gently on; A tender wind turns pages of an unfinished score. Your indigo and my vermilion paint our new future. Page by page, softly turning—morning in our tones. Walk into a future with no frames; Before the words arrive, the colors touch. At a temperature neither red nor blue, Our season learns to breathe in quiet— walk into the unframed future, To paint us—indigo & vermilion.
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