"Her Blank Canvas: Perfection"
I stare at your canvas:
Smooth and fair,
Yet somewhat aware of my intentions.
Most of which I fail to mention;
Leaving you to question:
Do I truly favor your complexion
Or am I feigning and pretentious?
Make no mistake.
I will issue no amends
For what is seen with this lens.
Blank is where beauty begins.
The monocle is powerful,
The microscope offers hope;
And the hopeful use bifocals;
But you deserve my naked eye.
It alleviates my stress
To watch you undress.
It's the moments that I savor
that promote my steadfast labor;
Contrasting your edges
Like shears through construction paper,
Love dangling over ledges
to be admired by the neighbors,
Blotched with sweat and wine
But still so rhythmic in design.
Happenstance is how we're defined;
So I always take my time.
There's no need to rush.
Just gently graze my brush.
Unwavering whiskers dance and prance
With the rhythm of a lush.
Random moves become consistent
As each stroke is more insistent. .
When it comes to spreading moisture,
Passionate wrists remain persistent.
Contingent upon one's inclination
And the level of infatuation,
Resolve is lost and revelry is stationed;
Giving way to voracious saturation.
I will not spare elaboration.
I fawn because it's necessary.
Such a wonderful work of art.
I'll keep you from each adversary.
I sit here with stationery;
Writing to the love I've missed.
Extensive letters travel by feather;
Asking you to reserve my kiss.
If I recall, I couldn't resist:
Nights and mornings met with bliss
And the moaning would not desist
Until ink smeared across your papyrus.
Wonderous colors line your walls
Whilst these fingers crease through halls
And not one reaction stalls.
Love springs free like waterfalls.
You lack the impurities
That this lost world longs to see.
One glance resolves my faculties
And spares them of my savagery.
Angry hands tear apart
And I would never harm my art.
I wouldn't know where to start.
You're autographed within my heart.
You're so sexy.It's a shame.
Too good for a picture frame.
Just so loving.It's so lovely.
Legs like pages wrap and hug me.
I'd embark on a pilgrimage
For one of your still images.
Photos filled with awe and grandeur
Worth the ransom of a lineage.
Some say that you appear dislodged;
Looking misshapen and archaic.
They may see you as a hodgepodge;
But you've always been my Mosaic.
It's hard for me to look past
How I love to stain your glass;
Wetting my whiskers for a feeling
Before I splash across your ceilings.
Let the men and women know.
We shamelessly merge within windows.
With great detail, I aim to please.
Great artists work on their knees.
You frustrate me.You get on my nerves;
Trying to draw those heavenly curves.
I can't find the matching stencils.
I don't have a lot of pencils.
I could use concrete and chalk;
But you're better than sidewalk.
You're too gorgeous for the street.
You won't be trampled under feet.
All I have are these wide eyes;
The watercolors for your thighs.
All I have are eager lips
Ready to trace across your hips.
Smooth the edges with fingertips.
Plot around and take a trip
Til that lifeless, empty canvas
Leaves very little to be managed,
But then…I stare once more.
And decide to leave it alone
For lust can be repeatedly sketched;
But our love is etched in stone.
Written By: Devin Joseph Metz