She was a painter and he was a performer. Both artists molded with talent but divided by passion. Nonetheless they connected emotionally and spiritually. Her canvas illustrated bright myriads of color and abstract scenes of memories and mental photographs. He sang with an emptiness of blues and love ballads intertwined with lost hopes and faded dreams. Empty acrylic paint tubes and coffee stained song sheets scattered on ratty floors of dim hotel rooms. Shattered whiskey bottles mixed with dirty sheets and angry words still hanging in the air with cigarette smoke. This is their love for their passions and love for their talents but sometimes the love for each other gets mixed up with the strain of trying to be the artist and the singer and each other’s lover. She paints his face on canvas and he writes lyrics about her crooked teeth and frizzy hair and her curves that he craves so much. But there’s a river long distance between two people who see with eyes that see past the lies and the bullshit. Each of them rejects societies ways and lives in a time they weren’t meant for. Drowning in inspiration but lost behind alcohol and midnight fights they stray from their talent and their love and fall into dark holes they dig with their own sorrow. Melted canvas’s and burnt sheet music lay on charred hotel room floors while two lost artists exhale their final masterpiece.