Strip my mind

of traces of gray

splash vivid hues

where none existed

I want to be lost

to the divine in you

feeling every inch

overcome me

let your dark edges

brighten my own

your wet lips

cover me

in passion’s garnet glaze

ruin my rain clouds

paint me pretty

fill me with you

~

Slowly, little by little

The oils clung to the canvas

And what took shape

Was a reflection of her

Majestic form

It was as if

Each stoke of the brush

Held in the artists hands

Mirrored itself within her spirit

And fluttered across her body

Light and shade

Lingered as the brush danced

Slowly as the artist worked

He filled in the contours of her breasts

Each stroke of the brush

Comforting

Warming

Enabling her pleasure to grow