Eyes closed.
Hands all over her body -
owning her.

'That! I will not tolerate.'
Staring at the scenario,
She'll surely not allow any man -

Not even her --- man?
But words simply slips,
through and against her.

Learning how to mold;
not only body but soul.
Trying to snare details -

of caress, touch, sensation.
Every hiss is inviting;
Every move is heaving.

Exploring for more -
Craving for more.
She allowed him, no.

She cooperated in him.
Gave him materials;
Gave him brushes and colors.

Gave him permission to paint
her, fully and boldly
But she's not an art.

She is a lost masterpiece.