When she sings
He paints pictures of heaven
With an olive branch
Scraping ochre colored rag vellum
When she stops
He lays down his branch
And longs for the taste
Of flesh from her upper thigh
When she sings
He paints pictures of hell
With the tips of a lepers fingers
Organic depth, fleshy tribute
When she stops
He washes the paint from his hands
Lays still and touches himself
Living for the next time
When she sings
hot and vivid imagery.
ReplyDeletewell done.