They say art is beautiful
And so are women.
Of course that’s true
Sometimes they co-exist
The woman as the art- the art as the woman
One an unrelenting epitome of the other
Behind closed doors, she is his muse.
A canvas he loves to paint on
For weeks-and then months
A fetish of his mind
His private mind
Where all his guilty pleasures lie
She becomes persuaded
by an unconventional reality
Occasionally forgetting-
she was never the masterpiece
That she will never be
The one placed at the forefront of the Gallery.
The one everybody’s eyes adorn first
His greatest work.
Every other day
Is a constant reminder
She was never
Isn’t-
And never will be his Monalisa
Mar 18, 2020
Mar 18, 2020 at 3:09 AM UTC