Paint Has a Sound

Photo by Cassie Matias on Unsplash

Deafness has me in her crosshairs. I feel her breath in my ear.
Chasing me down a dark alley, I the prey. Footsteps behind me I felt, not heard.
Invading my space, rearranging my place, the world I knew, now replaced.

Not a startling noise in years has caused me to spin and turn.
No jumps or jolts, broken is my audio periscope.

Words lost of intrigue, intimacy, entice me, yet never to be cut on my dulled edge of frequencies.

Anatomy of vibrating bones and nerves, in such a glorious casing of human skull, still assassinated by disease, riddled with decay; violent decibels shredding the strongest of primitive structures left in disarray, shambles.

I am both victim and the accomplice to this sinking silence.

Inward, I retreat. Where else would I go? Withdrawing from voices too exhausting to discern, I stumble upon a rejoiceful solace–new expressions for my ideas—an escape from pain and isolation in silent struggles.

Paint has a sound, you know?

She vibrates, laughs, breathes, cries in a world of non-noise. Colors rage more brilliant, pungent with life I used to only hear, not feel or really see.

Pigments now my trumpet to counter, not to reject sounds showing neglect. Sounds, like a broken mirror, can’t reflect.

Paint has a sound, you know?

Just listen.

Share This Tale

Share on facebook
Share on twitter
Share on email

Join Written Tales

Helping connect readers & writers!

Recommended Tales

Inspiration

Dance of My Life

The music within is the best music of all. I hear it in my mind, guiding me. Inviting, tempting, exciting.

Read More »
Refined
Inspiration

Refined

I am not going to crumple this pain upto toss in my trashbag of undeserved attention,I will carefully and patientlyopen

Read More »

Leave a Comment

Join Written Tales
Helping readers & writers connect!