I lay down your creamy expanse unto the marble surface, as if milk made love with the stars in the galaxies.
I write you out as pleasant simmer of pulverized charcoal and bloated glycerine.
I splatter and spread fine dusts of Carica in temperate motion to touch the sleek edges of the vanilla branches on your person.
I hold and dip my feathery digit amongst rose water to grasp the flowers that frames your face, like light morganites that hail from the west.
I cast you off as the blue sea engulfs the life from the waters where life swims with stable beginnings and whirlwinds of stories.
I finish you by letting molten pearls lither your dark onyx orbs, surrounded by your lakes of gelatinous almond, like shooting comets finding rest on land, as lightning's faint and close but never quite touch.
I made you with intrinsic detail and rawness to give you the life that you may never have.
may these words show its own form of art.
090219; 07:29 --- revison due to incompleteness from original file