Her body is an empty canvas,
and Oh God, how I anticipate
the red streaks my brush will leave
as it carves intricate patterns
on her pale flesh.
Her body is my canvas
and my sick, twisted fantasy -
my inspiration.
Her body is a canvas
and her screams the soundtrack
as I create a masterpiece
under the steely glint
of my art studio.
Her body was a canvas,
now a beautiful work of art
to add to my growing collection
of still life.