When she used color carelessly, painted his portrait
A thousand times or maybe just his smile
And she and her canvas would follow him wherever he would go
'Cause they were painters and they were painting themselves
A lovely world
Lexa stared out the 5th floor window of her Soho apartment. The rain fell outside on the hot pavement causing steam to rise from the ground. Slowly she broke her gaze from the outside world and her eyes wandered around the flat and fell on the painting from years ago. A tear formed in her eye and she felt it slide down her cheek, although she made no attempt to wipe it away. Her mind drifted back to their first meeting.
Oil streaked daisies covered the living room wall
He put water-colored roses in her hair
He said, "Love, I love you, I want to give you the mountains, the sunshine,
The sunset too
I want to give you everything as beautiful as you are to me
'Cause they were painters and they were painting themselves
A lovely world
Lexa hurried her way down 42nd avenue, past the MTV studios. Her head slightly tilted downward to avoid the gazes of anyone. Her move from the country of upstate New York to the imposing city left her feeling intimidated. In her haste, she neglected to see the tall blond directly in her path, which led them to collide.
"Damn, I am so sorry sir," Lexa said, picking her book and portfolio up off of the street. Quickly she moved to retrieve the stray watercolor, but the blond in front of her got to it first.
"Don't be. I wasn't paying much attention either." Nick looked at the painting in his hand. "This is really good. Are you an artist?"
Lexa blushed at the compliment and took the painting from his hand. "Yeah, one of those struggling artist types. My name is Lexa, by the way."
Nick took her hand in his, shaking it lightly. "Nice to meet you Lexa. My name is Nick."
"So, Nick. I don't do this ever, but would you like to join me for a cup of coffee?" Lexa asked hopefully; his blue eyes were piercing, almost like he could see into her soul.
"Sure, I'd love to." Nick said, smiling at the redheaded beauty in front of him.
With a start, Lexa was back in her apartment, still staring at the portrait of Nick. She wondered how much time had passed, although it was really of no concern to her. She moved over to the painting, carefully touching the surface, longing for it to give her the feeling of his skin against hers again. Her eyes moved back and forth between that painting and that of the ocean. He had loved the ocean.
So they sat down and made a drawing of their love, an art to live by
They painted every passion, every home, created every beautiful child
In the winter they were weavers of warmth,
In summer they were carpenters of love
They thought blueprints were too sad so they made them yellow
'Cause they were painters and they were painting themselves
A lovely world
"Nick, come on stop it!" Lexa shouted as she ran from Nick in her Soho apartment. Still, Nick continued to chase Lexa with the paintbrush of blue paint. Finally he caught up to her and grabbed her by the arm. "Ahh!" Lexa exclaimed, struggling against Nick, who wrestled her to the ground and marked her face with the blue paint. In one swift motion she put herself on top of him and began to tickle him.
"Okay, okay. I'm sorry." Nick said, breathlessly and he leaned upward to kiss her lips. Lexa stopped her tickling assault and met her lips to his. Nick once again rolled himself on top and continued to kiss Lexa. His lips moved down her neck as he removed her shirt, and continued moving downward. Lexa ran her hands through his short blond hair, allowing a small moan to escape her lips when he came to her breasts. She reached to the waist of his pants and grabbed the bottom of his shirt. As she pulled it over his head, she allowed her nails to run up his back.
"Lexa, I love you." Nick said, almost inaudible.
"I love you too," Lexa whispered into his ear. "Nicky, will you make love to me?"
Nick looked her straight in the eyes, and was overcome with a wanting that he had never felt before. "I thought you'd never ask." Nick smiled as he placed his lips once again to hers.
It had been all her fault. If she had just swallowed her pride and told him to stay, he would still be here. On days like this she was reminded of it even more. It had been a rainy day, only the rain seemed to fall thicker that day, almost as thick as the oil in her paint.
Until one day the rain fell thick as black oil
And in her heart she knew something was wrong
She went running
Through the orchard screaming,
'No god, don't take him from me!'
But by the time she got there, she feared he already had gone
"Damn it Nick, who was she!" Lexa screamed as she entered her apartment, following Nick closely. When he didn't stop and answer, she grabbed roughly on his arm and with all her strength spun him around to face her. Tears streaked her face, which was already soaked from the rain outside. "Answer me!"
"And I told you fifteen blocks ago that she was a friend." Nick answered roughly, his voice slightly raising as he pulled his arm from his.
"I don't kiss and hug and latch on to my male friends like that in front of you. What makes you think I won't mind your friends doing the same. Nick, she was all over you, so tell me what the hell is going on or was going on with her."
"No, no, I can't do this right now. You obviously can't have a conversation with me right now, so I'll go." Nick turned to open the door, when Lexa spoke again.
"If you leave now, don't you ever come back." Lexa said, not turning to face him. A few moments later, she heard the door close. When she turned around he was gone.
She got to where he lay, water-colored roses in his hands for her
She threw them down screaming, "Damn you man, don't leave me
With nothing left behind but these cold paintings, these cold portraits
To remind me!"
Lexa stood beside her window, four hours since he had gone. She'd been there since he had left, waiting to see his figure coming towards her. Suddenly she felt her heart drop to her stomach, and she knew something was wrong. She stood at her window, paralyzed, as she saw him coming towards her, not seeing the oncoming car. She screamed out for him, but he didn't respond. He kept walking, focused on his destination. Lexa grabbed her keys and ran down the stairwell, praying to herself that it was not too late.
He said, 'Love I leave, but only a little, try to understand
I put my soul in this life we created with these four hands
Love I leave, but only a little, this world holds me still
My body may die now, but these paintings are real'
Traffic was at a standstill, no surprise in New York, but the reason was painful. Lexa weaved her way in and out of stopped car until she reached his body. He lay there lifelessly, but she heard someone say he was still breathing. She knelt down to touch his face and his eyes fluttered open. "Baby, I'm so sorry. Please just don't leave me and I promise I will never doubt you again. Please, please Nicky, don't leave me. I love you." She was crying, but she couldn't tell her tears from the rain.
"I never should have left. I love you. Know that I'll never leave you, I will always be with you." Nick said softly, unable to raise his voice. "Those roses were for you, I'm sorry." Nick vaguely pointed to the scattered roses in the street. Blue, purple, and pink roses lined the sidewalk.
"You shouldn't be sorry. I was the problem." Lexa added, before noticing that his breathing had ceased. Carefully she placed her cheek to his chest and soaked his shirt with her tears. She would have screamed for help, but they were already there. A small circle had formed around her, of on lookers and paramedics. Slowly she rose from the ground and gathered what remained of her roses.
Watching the clouds roll by, they remind her of her lover
How he left her and of times long ago, when she used to color carelessly
Painted his portrait a thousand times or maybe just his smile
Removing the two canvases from the their respective easels, she placed them carefully in the remaining box. Her eyes roamed the small flat for any forgotten objects. They fell upon the dried roses hanging in the kitchen, a final reminder. She removed one from the bouquet of many and placed it on top of his portrait. Sighing, she picked up the box and left the apartment.