He was a painter. And for so long, he has been waiting for someone he could paint for everyday. And he met her, drawn towards her soul that was an empty canvas. A very brave painter he is, he started pouring paints on his palette and started tracing the outline of her heart, of her body, of her curves and filled them with every possible hue that could describe her. It took him days, months even to complete his painting until she no longer looks empty. But he didn’t like what he just did, he no longer found the piece worthy to be filled with colors, instead he found her a waste of space, a waste of paint and so he left her without an easel. Left on the floor, scarred and without a stand, every brush stroke became scars, all because he no longer find her pleasing to the eye, all because he wanted a new canvas to paint on.