beauty is a selfish pursuit. wild endeavours stood before me on short legs, her eyes seducing me with a look I’d never seen before. Her body was voluptuous; in a way that she could hide a flaw. with her smile, with her face I decided she was a canvas. she moved in feelings, and my brush was stiff. I couldn’t move her way so I made her move mine, and she obliged with a heart full of love. and she danced with her fingers between mine, so I would feel safe that her heart was with me. And now she moved in paint and my brush created a perfect picture of this woman who was mine. Although beneath the thick layer of colour I created for me, was not a blank canvas but a selfless soul who wanted to be free. A pursuit of beauty in another, for my own selfish needs. So I can hold her hand and call her my own. and so you see I’ve painted a pretty picture congratulate me. this canvas could’ve been many things and she hung herself upon a wall for me, to stay put forever.