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Click hereShe begins the journey
As naïve as a child
The yearning of desire
Without knowing why
A rage of a river
Coursing through her
Flowing and ever steady
The heartbeat she feels
As a pulse to her soul
Pulling and guiding her
To the seam in the fabric
She can pick apart
Ripping open with the wonder
And the excitement of release
Filling herself with the fear
Sewing and stitching it inside
To savor and breathe
Weaving itself to the being she is
Her mere acquiescence
A portrait erased
By a leap of spoken acceptance
Now his canvas to create
A masterpiece in his journey
To create his creature
Desired lines and color
His own palate
Strokes of his own genius
Nothing and all he manipulates
Her lines to be erased
And drawn again
His brush harsh and demanding
Then soft as her own skin
In a caress or kiss
On a tender mark
Or a kind word
To assuage a cruel pen
She demands nothing
Most content when he is pleased
Allowing she to be reborn
Trusting the design
Felt even as she burns
With the marks left behind
Even in a lonely place
When he must rest
Before he can work on her again
The journey is her beginning,
In naïvité as a child
A restless woman coursing
The woman as the river wild........
Sweeping her in guiding pools
The fabric waves of her release
To breathe the savory excitement
Into a torrent crease...............
Her acquiescence is her portrait
To accept the leap of faith
The water colored portrait
Strokes the grandiose wraith.........
All or nothing he manipulates
Her lines of form erase
The sea his brush of harshness
Her soft skin can not embrace............
Her demands are all her nothing
Encased in a woman's form
His marks are of his nothing
As twain she waits to be reborn............
She demands nothing
Most content when he is pleased
Allowing she to be reborn
Trusting the design
Felt even as she burns
With the marks left behind
Even in a lonely place
When he must rest
Before he can work on her again