maybe, someday

40 // maybe

brooklyn

"i can't believe you actually did it,"

my brother breathed, glancing around the

studio in muse.

his hands were in his pockets as he twirled

while his eyes were bright in adoration.

"i couldn't stop," i said

touching the very first canvas i hung.

it took months of endless painting

and only a week and a half to set

up the studio for a gallery walk.

i let out a nervous breath and

rubbed my clammy hands on

my pencil skin.

for months, since this idea came

to me, i've been looking forward

to putting every work on show;

however, now that it was about

to begin in less than fifteen minutes

i was an anxious and nervous wreck.

"think he'll show?"

i shrug, "i hope not."

i invited him, yes.

but did i want him here? slightly.

i was terrified because i had no

idea how he would react; yet

this was my way of closure.

every time i tried to open up about

what clouded my mind and haunted

me at night, nothing would spill out

from my mouth;

but when i grabbed a brush,

my thoughts and emotions flowed out.

i didn't plan on keeping one canvas

that hung throughout the studio.

i was able to express myself

and speak of what i went through,

and now it was time to move on.

landon

i held the folded brochure tightly in

my right hand as i slowly walked through

each hallway. stopping at every canvas,

basking in the memory painted right

before me.

sure, the memories were tucked in

the back of my mind, but upon every

wall and every stand was the visual image.

reminders of everything that meant something.

that stupid worn out couch that you

pretended to love when really it made your

skin itch.

the stool and the bar, with me in my leather

jacket and gray beanie.

the small cluttered apartment,