The Paintbrush

The paintbrush sits on pale skin

and slides scarlet over kissing plain

it touches and presses

like time

and strokes the distance

between my fingers and my desire.

Eyelids close and a breath is taken…..

slowly

a small movement,

a perfumed step

The paintbrush leaves the skin

hair by hair

and patience tempers the dancing

in my chest

I am the night

and now,

my body is full of stars…….

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