Paintbrush strokes..

Just a tiny mark on the paper,

He scribbled again and again.

His eyes filled with the ocean.

Looking everywhere blankly reminded him of her,

How she left?

She didn’t share her sadness,

She cried herself away.

He only knew what her happiness was.

But not as transparent.

She still remained a distant memory.

All he had left was the ocean.

If only the ocean had arms, he’d fall into a hug.

What he does, leaves