She was a painting in black and brown, a cascade of black upon her back, beauty radiating from her, but she did not know it.  Her eyes, pools of coffee sitting daintily in the cream-colored iris, always observant of what was around her. She was in love with the world around her, the reds, yellows, greens, purples, browns, but she was in love the most with a boy,

a painting in blue and white.

He was a painting in blue and white, everywhere he went he was radiating light.  His eyes, oh how his eyes carried so much joy. Just one touch and it was as though the world was an amazing place to be in; there was no such thing as sadness around him.  

This she craved, that girl, the painting in black and brown, the feeling of sadness to escape her at least once.  She wanted to know, just how well she would mix with the boy, how well their personalities would come together and combine into a beautiful painting.

From across the room she wonders to herself, just how possible this could be.

    Then she looked up at him, and saw him looking at her too,

        maybe there’s a chance that they could be each other’s muse.