The Model

Across it moves.
Strokes of fine horse hair caressing the white veil of innocence,
with water droplets falling onto stained woven silk.
Cut from sugared paper,
and placed upon a canvas,
like the blueberry stain you used for your sky.

Tainted on your skin,
my body a mass of desire,
Naked, black and blue.
Your fingers placing my body parts into sphere's
Like your face, a fist, my breast.
Your cold water stains left upon my cheek,
Uncontrollable hands possessing the fire that you burn,
with cherry blossoms and orange skins,
crushed into a pulp.

Skin cold and sore from the time you take to paint.
My face undisclosed.
A figure of a blue, placid river