Post by Debra Tracy

Art is Everywhere: HOW WRITERS THINK She went to bed, knowing he’d forget their anniversary tomorrow. He was romantic as a Ken doll. No chocolates, no flowers, no promises of a romantic dinner. The next morning, she sat slumped on the toilet because he wasn’t even there when she woke up. He was with his mistress: his work. No card, no special gift on the fireplace mantle. No nothing. When she got up, she’d throw away the card she had bought him - airline tickets to Maui encased in forced sentiment. A last-ditch effort. Sighing, her gaze brushed the shower curtain. Right there. Right before her eyes was a slightly wrinkled rose petal white heart, tear-stained yellow. “Thank you,” she told the inanimate fabric as her lips subtly stretched into a Mona Lisa smile. #art #poetry #writers