Everything I Didn't Say

Painters Have Their Hidden Hues

Light and dark hues of crystalline blues pooled in the boy's eyes, a fire flaming from his chest, and light pinks hollowed out his cheeks. A tint of shade hid underneath his eyes, showing what a sleepless monster the boy was. Shades of black surrounded the boy, twisting, curling, pulsing around him, blocking him off from the real world. The world people make seem so ugly just so they won't be seen among the mess of poverty, homelessness, and tragedy. Almost a protectant the mess of black provided for him, shielding him from horror and loss and death. He didn't cry when his sister died, for he didn't understand what dying meant. What it was like to lose someone so close and loved. some may have called him a monster, yes. But no, he was misunderstood he was different. And that was all the other could seem to draw or at least sketch, he didn't have the tools to paint or the proper tools to create such pieces like he wanted to. Michael was a talented boy, a very talented artist at fact, one who saw the word in ugly yet radiant and swirling colors. Luke was a boy who didn't understand the world, he was always concealed from such horrors, living his life as if everything was perfect.
"Mum have you seen my jacket?" Luke questioned his mother, clambering down the stairs as he was trying to pull on his all-black vans. He was running late that evening due to his phone, which was set to wake him up at 6, got buried by blankets thus making the alarm muffled and inaudible.
"Have you checked the hall closet?" she called out as a response before continuing to flip the eggs in the pan she was cooking them in, a slight whisper escaping her lips as she sung under her breath.
"No, thanks," Luke said quickly before rushing down the hall before slowing his step, he stopped completely before pulling out his phone, checking the time, "8:13," he read aloud, "might as well take my time if I'm already almost an hour late," the boy concluded, sighing softly as he pulled his jacket from the closet, "Jesus it's like that woman knows everything," he muttered under his breath.
"Find it?" Liz asked, setting his spatula to the side and turning off the stove, leaving a quick note to her husband about breakfast before accompanying her son in the hall, "Oh good, ready to go?" she asked next, going to front foyer to collect her purse and her own coat which was draped over a chair.
"Yah, let's head out