The Peril of Creative Catharsis
In my haste, I’d forgotten to begin.
Every watercolor, charcoal, and sketch, landed dully in the trash bin. Her eyes flew to the disarrayed papers nestled against other discarded artistic notions. I had thrown them away, I suppose to prove how much I didn’t care about them. They were in a way my own identity which I had carefully crafted into pages which had mostly been a reflection of her, truth be told…
