Dear Vincent,
How have you been?
I hope the afterlife is suiting you well
my life is fine too
but not that swell.
Guess, the starry night looks admirable from the one you saw from the asylum.
What is it like being up there?
I presume, peace and a calm mental state?
I remember the treacherous emotions I felt
when I first gazed at your "At eternity's gate".
Not just that, in all those paintings you painted, I could sense the heart throbbing anguishment you should have sensed.
The vividity of the somber color and the melancholic tune it played
even the most livid paintings of yours would have a shimmering glaze.
Self portraits of yours depicted how drained you were, how the world had enslaved you in its misery
and how you suffered for your sanity
maybe that is the reason why you didn't even bother to tend your wounds
but I still wonder even after all that
how celestially your artistry flowers bloomed.
Oh Vincent, it must had been hard
to carry oneself all bruised and scarred
even when the way people tantalised you
even when the way people vandalised you
you still perpetuated, didn't you?
Right minded nomad
revolting against derailed society
with everything you had.
I hope you are in serenity now Vincent
no matter where ever you are
the world remembers you today
for you've gone too far.
If only you were to return
the obscure would light
and we all could once again enjoy
that same old starry night.
My Dear Valentine!
