(On her canvas, brushes will cross;
he, the art of loving the loss)

At the break of her ego's regard,
invite insight --in slight, reveal
a glimpse of past, the skin of real:
the scarred survivor turned cautious bard.

Let her wonder, let her ask,
then let her outline your mask.
Let her hands combat the task
of pains that guard passion's cask

as her reach exposes chest,
thieve her strength, become her nest.

Be the moon, she: the sun,
chase the path of day and night,
****** duel outright:
bite her bullets, strip the gun.


And when your cask has been unsealed
feign fear, hesitate --be revealed.