Vincent's Ladies knew his pain

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Vincent's Ladies

His brushes heard everything— the ache, the hunger, the nights that refused to end.

He called them his ladies, held them close each day, and they answered the only way they could: with sunflowers screaming gold, with skies that swirled alive.

If only they could speak. If only he had known they understood.

Instead, they painted his pain into masterpieces he could not see— love letters signed in color.