Once my artist had fled

Once my artist had fled my life,

seeking shelter from their storm elsewhere, 

I had begun creating my own abstract masterpieces.

The only tears that had fallen were drawn onto 

paper and filled with the brightest colors 

known to mankind. 

The only pain felt was turned into 

pedals on blossoming flowers. 

In the lines of this art, you could not find

"I miss you" jotted down anywhere, 

no matter how hard you looked. 

Once my artist had fled, 

the invisible cap they had put 

on my creative hands had vanished for good. 

~I became my own artist