Clara

His Masterpiece

Her skin a blank canvas

Smooth and paper white

Her story is written within, he can tell by the look in her eye

Tell-tale signs within the lines on her face

The scars on her skin, draw a life before him

A life, from this moment, he will erase with no trace. 

 

His eyes devour the possibilities before him

Oh, how she is ripe for his creation

He lays her down, the four poster their easel

His eyes, they take her in completely

His fingers, they draw lazy patterns upon her skin

His way of warming up he says as she alights within

Eager now, he paints his love. 

 

Every brushstroke, every cleansing dip into her liquid abyss

They begin to create His Masterpiece

Confident now, he penetrates deeper

His brush, a sensual stroke against her page

His mind lost in creation; he moves in the only way he knows how

His Masterpiece

Oh, how she unfolds underneath him. 

 

It’s magnificent

She leaves her own mark, half moons of fingernails run parallel down his back

The shapes they create, shading each gasp

His eyes lock onto the colour exploding beneath him

Deep hues of passion red and lovely gold entwine

The look in her eye as his brush sweeps through the wilderness one last time. 

 

In awe and in love

A final brushstroke, gentle to complete

He takes a step back

Ecstatic and consumed

He signs his name with a kiss.