Her body was carved
into hard wooden bones
An easel of flesh in
her light subtle tones
Her face was a portrait
in an essence of white
With virginal eyes of
pure innocent sight

A palette of colors like
the dark hollow shades
A cold stiffened brush
like an acid on blades
The withering petals of
a deflowered disgrace
As black tipped thorns
had pervaded her face

A piece of a gamble
to be auctioned away
A mere illustration
for an open display
The human canvas
left devoid of a word
As artwork is seen but
should never be heard

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